Unhappy Happenstance
by Doctor It
Summary: Sophie Hatter had a perfectly normal life, until a mysterious stranger came arse over teakettle and screwed everything up. In the oddest way possible.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: All characters below belong to Dianna Wynne Jones (minus those who are obviously not)._

**AN:  
>I'd like to dedicate this story to Ms. Jones, who left us on March 26, 2011. She'll live forever in her wonderful works, and in the hearts of her readers.<br>(However, I'm not quite sure she'd approve of this content.)**

Unhappy Happenstance

**Chapter 1: It Always Bloody Rains**

It was a cold, rainy day that saw Sophie home from work. With a scowl, she tugged the collar of her pea coat tighter around her neck, and tucked her head down against the wind. London weather was never expected to be great, but today marked one of the more horrible days.

"Oh, it'll be just cloudy today, the weatherman is never right, it should be a nice walk so just let me borrow the car again," she muttered, mocking her ex-roommate who was obvious to blame for her current discomfort.

She had lived with her sister Lettie for one year when Lettie started university and Sophie was in her third year. A year later, she couldn't help but feel glad that her sister had just left to move in with her boyfriend. No more picking up dirty clothes, washing dirty dishes, and being bereft of the car when she really, really needed it. And no more spiteful pecking about her wardrobe either.

Sophie growled at the mess of rain in front of her, lost in thought. Her job didn't need her to dress up, not entirely, and she very well wouldn't. Organizing shipments, inputting profits, and discussing the next season's style, on top of coursework, were troublesome enough jobs without having to wear painful heels and restrictive skirts. Being the daughter of the company's president allowed her to stick behind the scenes. All the public relations and business deals were her step mother's job.

The rain was coming down even harder, and she had to squint her eyes to prevent the rain from blinding her. She knew her coat was going to stink something awful after getting this wet, and she'd given up trying to shield her purse.

So intent was she on getting home, that she didn't notice the two men standing in front of her until she nearly bumped into them.

"Hey mate, it's a little drowned mouse. How perfect."

"Yea mate, she looks like she needs something to warm her up."

"Well, we'd be happy to help her out, wouldn't we mate?"

"Oh yes, we'd be delighted."

They inched closer, their umbrellas hiding their faces in a sinister way. Sophie stepped back, nearly frozen with sudden fear. This _would_ happen. All the shitty things always happened to her. In a past life she must have really pissed off someone.

"L-leave me alone," she squeaked out.

"Aw, it's so cute when it cheeps. Just like a little mousey. Don't worry, you'll be in...good hands."

At that, Sophie turned on her heel, and fled blindly into the opposite direction. Unfortunately, her escape was blocked. She had run directly into something solid, and had bounced off of it and onto the pavement.

Mentally groaning, she scrambled to get up on her feet, when a hand yanked her back up, eliciting a yelp from her.

"Pendragon," one of the men growled.

"Always a pleasure to see you, gentlemen." The hand wrapped around her shoulders, securing her to a chest, which rumbled pleasantly.

"You've got balls to show yourself, mate. Thought you learned your lesson the last time."

The voice laughed, and Sophie trembled as the sound carried through her. The thugs across from her sneered, their fat lips baring cigarette stained teeth.

"You think those ignorant plebeians could handle me? Your leader has always been, for lack of a more eloquent word, stupid."

"Don't insult the Lady!" The other man yelled, flipping out a switch knife and waving it menacingly. "Get lost, before you piss us off some more and we'll really teach you a lesson."

"I guess it can't be helped." The hand released Sophie and spun her around. She came face to face with a very handsome, very blonde man, who was holding an umbrella over both of them.

_Huh, no wonder I felt dry...I hadn't noticed..._ she thought.

"Please wait here, miss, and don't run off." He turned to face the men, paused and then turned back towards her. "In fact, here take the umbrella, go stand over by the corner there, and if you would be so kind as to not call for the police I'd be most appreciative."

At a loss for words, Sophie did what she was told and backed up against the indicated wall, watching as the man calmly walked to one of the men and punched him in the face. The other man chucked his umbrella to the ground, grasping his knife. The man who had saved her was merely standing in front of them lazily.

The fallen man unsteadily picked himself up.

"Well?" her savior said.

With frustrated yells, both men leapt at him.

Sophie watched in frozen terror as the men reached for and grabbed at the blonde man, but they were only able to graze him as he dodged them, letting them stumble. The rain had immediately plastered all three of them with water, and Sophie merely clutched the umbrella handle tighter and squinted to see. She was aching to run, but she couldn't just leave her savior. Even if he had asked her not to go to the police, should she go anyway?

She realized then that she was in the middle of some sort of gang fight. Of course. _Good fucking grief._

Distracted by her worrying, she almost missed it when one of the goons finally landed a punch. Her savior hissed in pain, and Sophie let out a loud gasp before hurriedly covering her mouth. Taking advantage of his pain, the other goon landed another punch and grappled with him before the blonde man threw him off, breathing heavily. The fist fight continued, the blonde taking hits to his face and stomach. Sophie clenched her jaw in horrified anticipation , until the worst possible thing happened.

The goon with the knife had slipped, and the blonde had miscalculated where the hit would land. The switchblade sunk into his shoulder, and he let out a pained exclamation. Sophie yelped, wishing she could do something, when she saw the other goon picking himself off the floor to ram into the blonde man, who was bent over, clutching his arm.

Impulsively, Sophie pulled shut the umbrella she was given, and ran over. Closing her eyes, she swung the umbrella like a baseball bat, whacking the goon in the head. The goon keeled over, clutching his nose, and she stood there, feeling slightly terrified at what she did.

_Shit shit shit shit._

The other goon jumped back towards her savior, pulled out his blade and kicked the blonde man over, before stalking towards Sophie. Trembling, umbrella in hand, she backed away, swearing.

He made to leap at her, when a fist smashed him in the back of the neck, rendering him unconscious. Gaping, and still brandishing the umbrella, Sophie stared at the still man, before looking up.

The blonde man was standing there, now clutching his shoulder tightly. The thug Sophie had hit was now sprawled out cold in a doorway, where he'd hit his head on the stoop.

"Idiot girl, I told you to stay over there," he growled, before shakily falling to one knee.

His fall startled her out of her shocked revery, and she hurried over, discarding the umbrella.

She knelt before him, anxiously trying to inspect the wound he was squeezing the daylights out of. Though it was covered by his hand, she could see copious rivulets of blood streaming around it, and she cursed under her breath.

She moved next to him, and pulled him up, highly aware of his pained hiss.

"My flat, it's not too far from here...I have bandages and antiseptic and we should get out...of the rain..." He'd already stalked off in the direction she'd indicated, and she hurried to follow.

"Wait!"

He sneezed in response.

* * *

><p>They'd made it to her flat in record time, (despite her having to partly drag him the last few minutes as the blood loss got to him), into the elevator and into her apartment. She threw her sodden coat on the wooden floor, ignoring the fact that it was now half soaked with blood on a shoulder, and ran into the kitchen.<p>

The man had followed her slowly, dripping rainwater and diluted blood on the floor as he glared balefully.

"What in the world are you doing in the kitchen."

She looked up, as she snatched the first aid from under the sink, and slapped it on the kitchen table.

"Getting you first aid?" She motioned for him to sit, and he did so, wavering on his feet.

"Don't people normally keep important things such as that in the bathroom, the place known for holding important things such as that?"

"So? I have more accidents in the kitchen than in the bathroom," Sophie retorted, feeling unnaturally defensive.

He merely huffed, and achingly peeled his coat off.

"That was Burberry too...bloody shame," he muttered.

Raking a hand through her tangled hair, and subsequently getting her hand tangled in it, Sophie sighed, and irritatedly opened the first aid, pulling out the iodine, cream, bandage rolls, stitch wire, stitch needle, clotting aid, sling, numbing spray, Advil, leftover Vicodin...

"Jesus, woman."

She stopped, and looked up irritably. The man was leaning back in the chair, leering with red-lidded eyes.

"What."

"Half of that stuff isn't even _in_ a first aid kit."

"So? It's saving your skin, isn't it?...And I kind of need all this stuff." She mumbled the last part to herself, a blush rising on her cheeks as she remembered all the idiotic accidents she had gotten into. Slamming her arm in the cabinet door and getting it punctured by a random screw that was in the middle of said cabinet door was one of many embarrassing accidents.

"Hm...why am I not surprised."

She blushed furiously, and busied herself with the supplies. Antiseptic first, or numbing spray? Would it need stitches? Probably...although is it a good idea for a non-professional to be stitching up a...

There was a thud.

Sophie snapped her head up, to see that the man had slumped over in his chair, falling onto the table. She let out a sigh, blowing her hair out of her face.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me. I swear, this is the worst day ever." _Worse than boat accident day and bikini accident day combined. _Raking a hand through her now half dry hair, she stalked over to his chair.

Arms akimbo, she glared down at the slump form, and poked it.

"Get up."

There was no response.

She glanced at his wound, which was still sluggishly bleeding. Grabbing a bandage roll and a cotton pad, she pressed the latter on the wound, and tied it tight with the former.

He stayed still, his breathing shallow.

Sophie glanced around, wondering where she should put him. There was no way she could carry him, so she'd have to drag him in the chair. Her bed was too far away, but the couch was right there...

Taking a deep breath, Sophie grabbed the back of his chair, and painstakingly dragged him across the linoleum onto the hardwood floor of her miniscule living room, half-heartedly blowing her hair out of her face. She hardly had any furniture, so maneuvering the chair to the couch wasn't too hard, and she only paused once to move the coffee table out of the way.

Stopping the chair directly next to the couch, she swung his legs up onto it, before lugging the rest of his body. He was dead weight, and she had to dig her fingers into his shirt to keep him from slipping.

Successfully on the couch, his head and injured arm still lolled off the side of the sofa, and she had to prop it up with the chair. A little push took care of his head, but when she pulled her hands back, they were covered in a sticky yellow residue. Looking closer at his hair, she could see black roots showing through what seemed to be very expensive spray on hair dye. She nearly gagged, and ran to the kitchen to wash her hands. It felt like they were covered with sludge, and it was extremely unpleasant.

On to more important things.

Sophie grabbed her supplies, cradled them to her chest, and carried them back to the living room, spreading them out on the coffee table. She had only stitched up someone once, and it was Martha, and under Martha's instruction. Martha was studying to be a nurse.

She could do this though!

Antiseptic and numbing spray in hand, she turned on towards the man, when she realized he still had his shirt on. A long sleeved, form fitting shirt, which needed to come off. A shirt covering a body, she finally noticed, that was quite fit. Shaking her head, she placed her implements down, and crawled over, her hands hovering uncertainly over the hem of his shirt. She sucked in a breath, biting her lip agitatedly.

"Oh, fuck it. If he dies, I'll have even worse problems to deal with than undressing an unconscious body."

Determined, she first undid the makeshift bandage. Then up inched the damp shirt, her eyes averted.

It was going well, beautiful abs aside, until she got to his armpits. Biting her lower lip harder, she pulled at the shirt, folding the uninjured arm to slip the sleeve off, and then holding his head up so she could slip it through the hole. She gingerly inched the shirt over his wound, flinching when a small moan escaped his mouth. It was with a relieved sigh that she finally got the shirt off, and she wiped off his hair goo on it.

Sophie uncertainly picked up the antiseptic and numbing spray that she left on the floor, and applied them carefully to the wound. His face was looking hot, and when she placed her hand on his forehead, it was burning with a fever. She almost got off her feet to get a damp cloth, when it occurred to her that she was avoiding the most pressing problem.

"Wound. Focus on wound. Then everything else."

* * *

><p>Sophie was sprawled on the floor, absolutely exhausted. She peeked a glance up at her charge, who was sleeping soundly on her couch. She had tugged off his pants, as they were sodden, and placed a few towels under him to keep him dry (especially under his head, she didn't want that goo on her sofa). Of course, she maintained perfect composure the entire time.<p>

Afterwards, she layered blankets on him, and placed a cool cloth on his forehead. And for good measure, she placed a chair under his draped legs so that they were comfortably stretched out.

When she was satisfied that he was in as good shape as she could manage for her conscience, she'd flopped onto the floor, tired to the bone.

It was 11 o'clock at night, and she still hadn't had dinner, and she was a frizzy mess, and all she really wanted was a shower. And food. And sleep. New shipment logs were coming in tomorrow, and she had a pile of unfinished coursework a mile high.

Oh well.

She dragged herself into a sitting position, pausing before she hauled herself to her feet.

"Okay. I'll take a shower, and get into my pj's, and have a quick bite. Then I'll check on him and then, _then_ I'll go sleep. Glorious, glorious sleep."

Fifteen minutes later, a clean and content ginger stepped out of her bedroom, fluffing her towel-dryed hair. Stalking into the kitchen, she bee-lined towards the fridge and pulled out the leftover lasagna, intent on eating it out of the container.

She grabbed a fork, and went into the living room, plopping herself in the only armchair. The man was still out cold, and he hadn't moved an inch from where she left him. He was sleeping peacefully, his lips slightly parted.

A sigh passed through a lasagna filled mouth, and she suddenly lost her appetite after a few bites.

Looking down at the blob-like food, she suddenly felt a rush of fatigue.

With a groan and a pop, she got out of the chair and deposited her food back into the fridge. Next to the fridge was the dishwasher, and Sophie pulled out a clean glass and filled it with water, before heading back to the living room. The water was placed on the table next to the Advil and Vicodin, in case he wanted a choice.

"I," Sophie stated to no one in particular. "Am going to sleep. Now."

And so she did.

* * *

><p>The next day, her car was thankfully in the garage below the complex, where it belonged. However, Sophie drove it to work muttering about ironic events and horrible timing that plagued her life. She muttered through a giant pile of paperwork, which she found out later were only copies and that her secretary had already sent in the official documents. She muttered when she found out that they had gotten too many shipments of the plain blue hat bases, and had to call the company to send them back. She muttered through her Japanese culture lecture, and she muttered when she drove home, with the sun setting brightly in a cloudless sky.<p>

"Honestly," she huffed.

With all her mutterings, a cloud of discontent had begun to roil over her head, and she was in a horrible mood when she unlocked her apartment. The mood slightly worsened when she saw that her couch was unoccupied.

The chairs were all replaced, the blankets were haphazardly folded on the sofa arm, and all the supplies (except the Vicodin and bandages) had disappeared, most likely back into the little first aid box. The man was no where to be seen, but as she walked further into the apartment, dropping her keys on the counter, she could hear the sound of running water.

Now sure of where her invalid had disappeared to, she trudged into her bedroom and changed out of her baggy work clothes into baggy sweats.

Tired, but with enough energy to make her antsy (the stomach butterflies were on a rampage), she stalked into the kitchen, and began puttering around, turning on the stove to boil water for tea. While she waited, she found herself staring absentmindedly at the man's coat, which was still hanging on the back of a chair. It was a dark navy, with a grey-silver lining that was most likely silk. The coat was also wool, although after leaning forward to take a discreet sniff, it didn't smell as awful as hers did. She didn't look at the pale brown-red stains that streaked the lining.

The sound of the pot's lid bouncing snapped Sophie back to reality, and she shuffled over to turn the stove off. She used to have a proper kettle, but Lettie had had an inordinate fondness for it, and so had taken it with her. Sophie pursed her lips irritably, splashing hot water on the counter as she poured the water into a mug.

The sound of the shower ceased as Sophie was on her tiptoes, reaching into the tea cabinet. Suddenly , a nervous feeling fluttered through her, making her fumble with the tea box. Half a dozen boxes went tumbling to the floor. Sighing, she bent down to pick them up, noticing that none of them were the tea she'd wanted.

"Mm, are you making tea?"

Sophie jumped with a small shriek, nearly dropping all the boxes she'd picked up. The man was leaning against the door jamb, wearing nothing but his pants. He had a towel around his neck (her _favorite_ towel), and was halfheartedly fluffing the back of his hair. Hair that was now pitch black and hanging about his face, curling below his jawline. His body was glistening with rivulets of water that had escaped the towel. His eyelashes were sinfully long, a sooty line caressing his cheeks.

She stared.

He strolled into the kitchen, unbothered by her ogling, and brushed past to retrieve a second mug from the cabinet, first try no less. Sophie remained still for a moment, before whirling around.

"Do you have mint? I feel today is a mint day. Or mint night," he stated, twirling the mug on a finger.

She snorted, and briefly glanced at a tea box in her arms before shoving it at him. Gorgeous he may be, but he was a dangerous stranger with no consideration for peoples' towels.

"Would you like mint as well?" he asked.

For some reason, Sophie was feeling weird. Her stomach was flip-flopping into her throat, her hands were trembling slightly, and she felt like laughing. So she did.

The man gave her nonplussed look, and then shrugged, taking care of his own tea before plopping down at the kitchen table.

Right. Chamomile tea, let's go. Sophie painstakingly put the boxes back, hissing angrily whenever a box made to fall out. Only when all the boxes were put back did she realized that she'd boxed in the tea she'd wanted. Jaw clenched, she gripped the counter top, almost entirely sure that she was seconds away from flipping it. In fact, she nearly went into the living room to flip the coffee table (which was actually flippable), when she felt herself pressed against the counter top by something very, very warm.

An arm appeared in her line of vision, and a breath of warm air tickled her neck. After a few seconds, she registered the air carried words along the lines of, "Shall I get it for you?".

"Uhm. Chamomile. At the back," she replied automatically, too dazed to formulate any other words.

With a whoosh of air, she was pressed further into the counter, and then she was free, her box of tea dropped courteously in front of her. A whiff of lilac, with a sudden rush of cool air, told her he'd retreated. (And that he'd used her expensive soap, the bastard.)

Plopping a crisp tea bag into her steadily cooling water, she shuffled over to the table and sat across from her savior, who had now draped the towel behind him, completely exposing his toned glory, minus the stark white bandages. Sophie bit her lip, and determinedly dunked her tea bag.

"So, seeing as I saved you from a traumatic experience which would've most likely involved your death, would it be too forward of me to ask a favor?"

Sophie glanced up, to see that he had leaned forward with his chin propped up on his hand which was propped up on its elbow upon the table.

_Traumatic experi...oh. Rainy day accident._

"W-what sort of favor?" Damn it, she stuttered. She could already feel a blush crawling up her neck.

"Oh, nothing too—"

"Wait, wait," she interrupted. "I don't even know your name, and you don't even know mine. For someone who is so..." She paused, trying to think of an appropriate word.

"Chivalrous?" he offered.

"No, no." She bit her lip. "...superfluous." It was entirely unnecessary to expose her to all that skin. "Yes, superfluous about everything. I'm surprised you haven't kissed my hand and bowed over it already." That's right. Go Sophie.

He gave her a patronizing look, allowing her to see the beautiful shade of green his eyes were, before sighing indulgently.

"I do sincerely apologize for my lack of manners." He stood up, and moved to her side. "I am Howl Jenkins, or in most circles, Pendragon. It is a pleasure to meet you." With that, he took her hand, and kissed it lingeringly, and she couldn't help but noticed the amused quirk of his lips.

Uncomfortably and immediately pulling her hand out of his, she waved irritatedly back at his seat, where he went to sit good-naturedly.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pendragon—"

"Ah ah, it's just Pendragon. But feel free to call me Howl."

"Uhm. Howl." She blushed. "I'm Sophia Hatter, but you can call me Sophie."

"Ah, Sophia, Plato's fourth cardinal virtue, the coveted wisdom." He paused. "Not entirely appropriate."

Indignant, she made to defend herself but Howl cut her off.

"Just kidding. Mostly. You wouldn't happen to be Sophia Hatter, daughter of the President of Mad Hatters Co.?"

She glared suspiciously.

"Hm. Interesting, interesting. Well, now that introductions are finished..."

Sophie was holding her hand up, like a little girl in class. Amused, he nodded, indicating for her to continue.

"How do you know where I work?" The Mad Hatter Co. was a popular brand for hats, but its executives and their families weren't common knowledge.

He shrugged. "I know lots of things."

She glared.

"Ahem...you leave your paperwork everywhere, not a very good habit you know."

Sophie pointedly looked around her spotless apartment.

"... And I have colleagues of sorts within that company."

"Oh." _Colleagues, eh?_ "Well, what do you do?"

Howl raised an eyebrow. Sophie stared hard at him, intent on acquiring an answer. No normal person threw himself into street fights, fights with people who'd previously attempted to kill him. Or who just happened to have colleagues in her family's company that enabled him knowledge of its workers.

"Honestly?"

She nodded.

He fiddled with the handle of his mug, twisting the cup around on the table top, his face in contemplative thought. He made as if to reply twice, but remained silent instead. Sophie rapped her nails on the table impatiently.

With a sigh, he tapped his cheek with one long finger.

"Well, I suppose you could say I'm a jack-of-all-trades. For crime syndicates, of course."

Sophie gaped at him, slightly stunned by his blatant honesty. He waved a hand frustratedly, and placed the palm on the table, shifting his seat in the chair.

"Now. About that favor. I'm sure you have many questions you wish to satisfy, but your nosy side will have to restrain itself." He sipped his tea, grimacing slightly at its cool temperature, before continuing.

Sophie's eyes widened. "Wait...what exactly do you want me to do! You work for mafias!"

Howl opened his mouth, his eyes narrowing in frustration, only to be interrupted by the sound of an old fashioned telephone. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin mobile phone. Holding up a finger, he glanced at the caller id before sliding it open.

"Pendragon."

Sophie settled her chin tiredly on the back of her hand, staring balefully. Of course, he'd let an important conversation he instigated be interrupted for a phone. Did anyone have manners today?

And the man had lips to die for. It really wasn't fair.

"Ah, Cal. Yes I know we were supposed to go last night, however I ran into...yes. Well, I know that already, and am currently rectifying the situation. No, I don't check my mobile often, you know that."

They were full lips, but not to the point of being feminine. The bottom lip was slightly fuller than the top, and as he spoke they spread temptingly over straight, white teeth. She licked her own subconsciously.

"Get your ginger ass here then. Where is here? Hold on, I'll ask. Shut up for a moment. Sophie?"

"Hm?" She pulled her glazed gaze up to his eyes.

"What is your address?"

"11 Nansen Rd, flat 7R."

"11 Nansen Rd, flat 7R. Yea, Wandsworth. Hold on, let me rectify first, and then you can pop over. I don't know what I'll have to resort to yet." He glanced at her. "Although, I doubt it will take much."

He had a really nice jaw line too. Wait, what in the world is he resorting to? She readjusted her seat and recrossed her arms. _Focussss._

"Yes. Yes. Calcifer...don't be sour. Fine. Pull up then. I'll be by the road." There was a distinct growl on the line, and then a click, before Howl slid his phone shut with a snap and returned his full attention to Sophie.

"Sophie?"

She glanced back at him, blinking tiredly.

Howl stood up, sweeping his coat on in a twirl, before leaning over to place a minty kiss on Sophie's mouth.

"Bye bye, now."

And then he was out the door, leaving Sophie sitting in her chair, looking unattractively stupid. The click of the door shutting brought back her senses, and she scrambled out of her chair, running to the window. She could see Howl stepping into a sleek black car, waving cheerfully at the driver.

Sophie ripped her window open.

"Wait! What about your favor?"

Howl had shut the door, and hadn't noticed her. The car pulled away with the screech of tires, and Sophie scrunched her nose at the smell of burnt rubber.

Shaking her fist out the window, she screamed at the disappearing black blot. "WHAT THE FUCK?"

Yes.

That made her feel loads better.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: SO, do you like it? Tell me what you think?<strong>  
><strong>I have one more chapter that is already written, and a positive response will help me churn out some more SophiexHowl lovey dovey ummyness.<strong>

**Reviewss pleease. **


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: All characters below belong to Dianna Wynne Jones (minus those who are obviously not). Also, the chapter title is, most likely, Lemony Snicket's property. Haha. Lemony._

Unhappy Happenstance

**Chapter 2: A Series of Unfortunate Events**

"I look like shit," Sophie said, poking her sallow face. The mirror in front of her was slightly fogged from her shower, making parts of her face blurred. She'd just finished brushing her teeth with flavorless toothpaste. She used to have mint, but after the events from two weeks ago, she'd thrown out everything mint related in her flat. Childish, yes.

Effective, yes.

With a disgruntled sigh, she turned from the mirror and walked across the hall into her room. The cool air made the hair on her skin rise, and she dressed quickly. She didn't have class today, and she'd taken a day off work so she could go visit Lettie at her new apartment. Ever since Lettie had moved, she'd hounded Sophie relentlessly to visit—_to gloat, _thought Sophie—and Sophie had adamantly refused. However, the last message on her machine had stated that Martha would be there amid the cajoling and the threats, and Sophie figured she could use Martha as a buffer if it came to it.

It wasn't that she didn't love Lettie. She was just an unbearable bitch sometimes.

Tugging up at her jeans, she grabbed her purse off of her bedroom door handle and swung it across her chest. She had a sneaky feeling that the other reason Martha was invited was so Lettie could steal the car again.

No effing way.

Sophie tied her hair harshly into a ponytail, popped a baseball cap on, and stepped out of her apartment, absolutely determined to have a good day.

* * *

><p>It happened when she was innocently waiting for the light to turn green. She was humming lightly along with a song on the radio, and the car was blasting waves of delicious heat.<p>

All of a sudden, the passenger car opened, and someone came in, closing the door behind them and locking the car considerately.

A scream squeaked out of her, before her guest clamped her mouth shut with a gloved hand.

"I could recognize your bright hair anywhere. Useful."

Sophie turned slightly, her eyes widening as she recognized the man sitting next to her. His hair was blonde again, and so were his eyebrows. A nice burnished gold.

"You!" she squeaked out, although it wasn't exactly coherent beneath the glove.

Howl smiled brightly at her, his eyes creasing, and he released her mouth. Sophie stared at him, pissed and frightened beyond belief. He pointed towards the windshield.

"Green light."

So it was. She glanced briefly at the traffic light, and ignoring the angry honks behind her, pushed at Howl's shoulder.

"Get out of my car! Get out!"

"Now Sophie, I'd say you still owe me a bit. And right now, I really would like you to drive away from this area. You are drawing unnecessary attention to me."

Sophie felt nothing better than screeching unintelligibly at him, but she swallowed her frustration and shot forward.

"Put your seat belt on," she growled.

* * *

><p>"So where are you off to today?" Howl asked, sounding too cheerful for Sophie's mood.<p>

She turned to look at him, her expression flat, before returning her gaze to the road.

"Wherever you need to go, _now_. I'm not dragging you around all day."

"Just what I wanted to hear! Please make the next left."

Sophie groaned, and made the turn with a squeal, causing Howl to fall into the door.

"You are quite the...driver...Sophia. Keep going straight for a while."

_Do not respond to him,_ Sophie lectured herself, jiggling a knee and clenching her jaw. _Do not. Do not do not do not. _

The car was awkwardly silent for five minutes before she gave in.

"Would you be so kind as to enlighten me on why you are in my car today?" she bit out.

She ignored how his gaze lay on her heavily, peeking one glance at him to remind him she was waiting for an answer.

The car was quiet for a while, before he replied.

"I was about to steal a car, when I saw you sitting at the light, and you seemed a much better option, as my driving skills have never been great." Sophie glanced at him briefly to see if he was smiling jokingly. He wasn't.

"Uhm," she focused here eyes on the middle of the road. "Why was there a need for car stealing? Don't you have your own personal getaway man?"

"He was unavailable."

"There is such a thing as public transit. Resorting to grand theft auto is unnecessary, as is hopping in a near-stranger's car." She looked at him pointedly.

He let out a low sigh. "This conversation is tiring. If you must know, public transportation is a sure way to get caught when you are being chased. "

Sophie's eyes widened as the implications of his words suddenly made sense. _Crime syndicates. Oh yea._

"And you owe me a favor."

"Oh," she said after a few seconds, swallowing slightly.

"If you're being chased, then why are we driving into an empty area like this? I've not exactly Grand Prix talent. Shouldn't we get help? " They were now in a quiet part of town, where the buildings were covered in scaffolding and the streets were quiet.

"It's better that a gun fight doesn't have many witnesses," he spat out exasperatedly, making her flinch in her seat.

"A gun fight?" Sophie threw him a terrified glance. However, any further questions were silenced when a smattering of bullets hit the back of her car, accompanied by a squeal of tires. She ducked down instinctively, and let out a small scream, pressing her foot harder on the gas pedal.

"What the hell!" She threw a hurried glance at the rear view mirror, which revealed a black car that was steadily gaining on them.

"Yes, I agree. Shooting up someone's car is absolutely abominable behavior. Keep the car steady?" And with that, he rolled down the window, and pulled a gun out of his jacket.

Sophie stared at him with wide eyes, before flickering her eyes back to the road, looking for escape routes. Howl had calmly turned around in his seat, and was sending small spurts of gunfire at the car behind them.

Eyes darting at each passing crossroad, Sophie made an abrupt right, and then a left, trying to shake off their pursuit. Her hands fumbled with the wheel, making the car swing wildly, before it righted itself. Howl was clinging to the seat, as far as she could see, with one arm still stuck out the window.

"Steady, woman! I said steady!" he roared at her, readjusting his seating. Another spurt of fire, and the car behind them came to an abrupt stop into a street lamp.

"Well, I'm not going to drive in a straight line so they can keep shooting at us!" Sophie retorted, her voice steadily rising in pitch.

Howl's response was interrupted when another car suddenly pulled up alongside them from a side street, and the driver pointed the gun at Sophie. Squeaking, she ducked down, and felt Howl reach across her and shoot back. He also took the wheel, and rammed her car into the other car. It careened into another street, flipping over from the momentum.

"Make the car go faster Sophie!"

"I'm trying!" She pressed her foot down further, but the pedal was already against the floor.

"Let the gas go a little, and then press again!"

Sophie, too scared to grumble, did so, and the car shot forward, making Howl fall back from on top of her into his respective seat, turning the wheel as he did.

She popped back up, wary of bullets, and shrieked as a lamppost suddenly came into view. There was a squeal as she hit the breaks, and then everything went black.

* * *

><p>When she came to, her head was throbbing painfully, and her throat was sore where the seat belt had dug into her collarbone. The strap of her purse was straining across her chest most uncomfortably as well. Where exactly were the bloody air bags?<p>

Aching, she brought her head up from where it was leaning against the steering wheel, and was met with the sight of her crumpled car. Smoke was rising from the engine, and the hood was destroyed. Sophie let out a groan.

"Sophie?"

She turned to her left, and saw Howl reaching over to check on her. Blood was running down the side of his face, but otherwise he looked unscathed. He ran a hand over her head and neck, checking for serious wounds, and then unbuckled her from her seat.

"We need to get out. They'll be here any minute."

"But," she croaked out. "But what about my car?"

He kicked his door open, and jogged over to her side, wrenching the door open and pulling her out.

"Howl, my car, I can't just leave it!" He was half jogging, half power walking from the car into an alleyway, and Sophie struggled to keep up.

As he tucked an arm around her waist, he sighed.

"Sophie, we have people intent on killing us less than five minutes away. I think the car is the least of your worries right now."

_Right Sophie. Priorities._

Her face must have still looked upset as they (she) struggled over a fence and a few trash bins, because Howl grumbled that he'd buy her a new one as he jiggled open a random back door and rushed them inside.

* * *

><p>They were currently in a hotel, and the door they had entered through had let them into the laundry room. Howl steered her around, seeming as if he knew exactly where he was and where he was going. Twice, he'd pushed her into small spaces and tiny closets to avoid bumping into anyone. At the moment, they were pressed together tightly inside a broom closet, the door of which blended in nicely with the outside wallpaper.<p>

Two people walked by their hiding spot, mumbling in soft tones to each other. Sophie caught the words "service" and "sheets", and figured that they were just hotel workers. Howl, however, was standing over her, his face taut with stress and his body tense.

After a minute, Sophie wiggled under him. "Howl?"

He looked down at her, and shifted the weight on his feet, inadvertently pressing closer against her.

"One more second. We'll have to cross over to the building next door." His breath whooshed against her cheek, warm and comforting.

Her hands were pressed against his chest, and her fingers flexed nervously.

"Howl...I..."

He lifted a hand and pressed it to her mouth, shushing her. She squirmed again, and he gave her a stern look. His face was far too close for her liking, and every breath he took brushed against her skin. If it were any other sort of situation, she might have been aroused.

Frustrated, she lifted one of her hands to pull at the one against her mouth.

"Howl, I need to pee!" she hissed out in a strained whisper.

He let out a huge sigh, and leaned over to press an ear to the door. Whatever he was doing, he seem satisfied, as in a moment he opened the door. Sophie nearly fell out and Howl stepped out after her with a steadying hand. Readjusting his grip on her upper arm, he commenced to lead her to a stairwell at the end of the corridor.

As they reached the door, there was a shout behind them. Letting out an inaudible swear, Howl threw her through the entry and closed the door behind them. The sounds of ricocheting bullets followed them as they flew up the stairs, not stopping until they reached the seventh floor.

Gasping for breath, Sophie allowed herself to be shoved out into the hallway. Howl was still in the stairwell, and was glancing downwards. His jaw clenching, he stepped towards her and handed her his gun.

"Safety's off, so be careful where you point it. Go find a room that says 'custodial supplies', use a plank and cross to the other building through the window right across and wait inside."

He stepped back into the stairwell, closing the door behind him. Sophie stared for a moment, her hand clenching the gun, before she whirled around and ran down the hall.

Each floor had a T shape structure, and the end of the hallway she was running down split into two ways. She went right first, looking for the room, and then left when she had no success.

Neither had the room, and she frantically backtracked, looking slowly at each door as her heart pounded against her ribcage.

"709, 711, 713...cutodial upplie?"

Sophie squinted at the door, whose sign was bereft of any S's, and yanked at the door handle. After a few moments of frantic jiggling, the rusted mechanism gave way and she tumbled into the room. It was small, with a few supplies leaning against the wall. To the left, a window was tucked into a corner, and she ran over to it.

Across the way was another window, with a small ledge jutting out at its bottom. The distance was over an alley with an eye-balled length of four feet. Without hesitating, she whirled around, looking for the plank. There were a few on the opposite wall, and she ran over to grab one, awkwardly maneuvering it in the small space.

The window gave way with a few desperate tugs. The plank, however, proved to be a more difficult task, and it was only the pure, desperate fear that surged through Sophie's circulatory system that managed to get the plank all the way out the window and balanced over the alley.

Not willing to tuck the gun into her pants for obvious reasons, she gripped it with her right hand and gingerly lifted herself onto the plank, and out over the ledge on her hands and knees. The window behind her, she closed with her foot. It squeaked down with a slam that made her flinch and the plank tremble.

As long as she looked straight ahead, she had no problem spanning the small distance. However, the problem arose when she reached the other window. It was obviously not open, and she hadn't thought about it not being open when she was getting ready to crawl across. Typical.

It was impossible to see into the room, with a big curtain blocking her view, but there was a visible lock on the bottom of the window. Good. Taking a huge gulp of air, she tightened her grip on the plank with her left hand, and unsteadily lifted her right hand. Gun still being held tightly, she coiled it back and struck the glass. The glass shuddered, but held. Rearranging the gun so that the butt pointed towards the window, she hit it again.

Her hand went straight through. A pain filled gasp escaped her, and blood began to well up swhere the glass had cut her, but she wasted no time unlocking the window, pulling her hand out, and lifting the pane up.

With a hysterical hiccup, she crawled into the room, and collapsed onto the floor. She lay there a minute, gulping air like a fish out of water, before dragging herself up again to peer out the window. The custodial supply room hadn't changed, albeit it was harder to see, and she dragged the plank into the room with her before shutting the window closed. Thank god there hadn't been a screen.

Sophie expected to be hiding in another 2 square feet mini closet.

She was in a large apartment, outfitted with a few outdated armchairs, a worn coach, a sturdy looking dinner table, and two doors that undoubtedly led into a bathroom and a bedroom. Light filtered dimly through gray curtains she'd come through, the outside now indiscernible. The door of the apartment was directly across from the window. A window that still had broken glass around it like a big "HERE I WENT" sign. With a sigh, she brushed the glass pieces into the room. There was nothing she could do about the jagged hole.

Too soon did she feel the piercing ache of the various scrapes and contusions, as well as the now poignant pain in her bladder. Wincing, she shuffled over to the bathroom and resolutely shut the door behind her. If anyone needed a clean up, she did.

For the second time that day, she took one look at her reflection and pronounced her distasteful appearance. She had several scrapes near her temple, most likely from the car crash, and they were bleeding down her face. There was a bruise over her left eyebrow, and a thin, angry bruise across her neck.

She stripped down.

A few scattered bruises on her stomach, and a cut on her arm were a few of the injuries she couldn't place.

Groaning dishearteningly, she pulled a towel from the rack and wrapped it around herself, and turned on the shower. The groan of the pipes sounded blissful to her, and almost immediately the room began to steam up.

After a very quick shower, consisting of various hisses and pain filled yelps, Sophie cleaned her wounds and strictly avoided using soap.

In the medicine cabinet, there were band-aid plasters, bandages, cloth pads, stitching tools, pain killers, and various splints.

She stared for a moment.

"Who has a supped up first aid now?"

* * *

><p>She had waited for five minutes, sitting by the window and bandaging her cut hand, when she heard a thump outside. Grabbing the gun from where it lay close by, she peeked out the curtains, gun first. A head popped out the opposite window. Sophie relaxed, slumping slightly against the wall away from the window.<p>

The window creaked open in a moment, letting in a tall figure who slipped inside far more quietly than she did, minus the crunch of glass underfoot.

"Howl?"

He ignored her, and bee-lined for the bathroom. Huffing indignantly, she shut the window and set after him.

"Howl, what happened? Where are those men?"

She really disliked talking to doors, but she wasn't one to barge into occupied bathrooms. Awkward moments, and all.

"Gone," came a muffled, tense reply.

"Gone? What do you mean? What happened? What did you do?"

"I took care of them. Now do shut up." The shower pipes squeaked to life once again, signaling the end of the conversation.

Sophie stomped, annoyed, over to the large table, setting her gun down, before picking up the bandages abandoned on the floor. While wrapping her hand gingerly, she listened to the sounds of the shower running, and the pained grunts that floated out of the bathroom. A huge sigh escaped her.

The room was nice and cozy, now that she thought about it, and the warmth of her shower as well as the heated room were a comfort after the ridiculous past few hours. Letting her head pillow into her arms, her eyes slipped closed.

Her little nap was abruptly ruined, however, when someone poked her forehead none too gently.

"Sophie."

She jerked awake, eyes scanning the room frantically, before they settled on the man before her. A box was placed firmly in front of her.

"Go cut your hair and dye it."

Staring at the box that was clearly labeled "BROWN", one of her hands unconsciously went to touch her long, red hair. She hadn't cut it since she was 14, and she had never, ever dyed it.

Apparently impatient with her lack of response, Howl sat down next to her, forcing her to look at him.

"Although your gingerness is very lovely, it is too recognizable. It will impede our escape, and thus your future. They will have found your car by now, and whatever identification you left inside it."

With that, he stood up and pulled her gently out of the chair, ushering her into the bathroom. With the door closed with a firm click, Sophie was once again left alone to stare at herself in the mirror.

A pair of scissors were conveniently placed on the sink, and Howl had placed the box of hair dye on top of the toilet.

A pale, bandaged face stared back at her in the mirror, ginger hair tumbling down about her cheeks. Somewhere along the way, her hat had disappeared. She'd liked that hat.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, taking the next few minutes to calm down a bit.

Too soon, with a trembling hand, she picked up the scissors and held it to her hair. The image across from her was close to tears, her lower lip trembling into a frown. She wasn't one to be nostalgic about her personal image, but memories of her real mother combing her hair flitted at the periphery. When she had died, Sophie hadn't touched her hair since.

* * *

><p>Howl was sitting at the table, cleaning a gigantic gun that she'd never seen before, when she peeked out of the bathroom. His hair was black, she realized, and still curly and wet from his shower.<p>

"Howl?"

"Done already?" he asked, not looking up from his task.

"Uhm, no. I was wondering...," her voice hitched slightly, as she tried to hold back her silly tears.

"Hm?" He placed his gun down, and looked up at her. Once he took in her unhappy countenance, he stood up.

"Could you...could you do it?" She held out the scissors.

He sighed, murmured something about women and their inanity, and beckoned her towards the table. She walked over timidly and sat in the chair he indicated. Taking the scissors from her hands, he took all of her hair and lifted it, letting it lie down her back. His hands were gentle, and Sophie closed her eyes, breathing hard.

The room was quiet, but for the soft snipping of the scissor, and both of their breathing. His was calm, unlike hers, and she could feel the heat of his body as he stood behind her, chopping off her hair little by little.

After a while, he patted her on the shoulder.

"All done."

With a shiver, she opened her eyes. Howl was gathering up all the hair that he'd cut off, and was throwing it into the kitchen sink. She watched as he opened a cupboard, pulled out a box of matches, lit one, and dropped it into the sink. The smell of burning hair reached her nose and she wrinkled it.

Sitting up, she immediately felt the lightness on her head. Tentative fingers reached up to touch her hair, and she felt it sitting just above her shoulder. The sensation was very weird. She let out a whoosh of held in air. Without a word, she went back into the bathroom, and picked up the box of hair dye.

* * *

><p>There wasn't a clock in the bathroom, so she sat on the toilet, hair full of white gloop, counting out the minutes before she could wash her hair out.<p>

She could hear shuffling in the main room, and the sound of the sink being turned on, then off repeatedly. Sophie fidgeted, fiddling with her fingers and scrunching her toes. The smell of the dye was extremely unpleasant, and her scalp prickled painfully. She'd never dyed her hair before, and resolutely planned on never doing so again.

Five minutes before she was supposed to wash it out, she stood up and turned on the sink. Her scalp was starting to burn, which she surmised was a good sign to wash it. When the water was nice and warm, she stuck her head into it, one hand cautiously place on the tap so that she wouldn't bump into it, the other scraping off the goop, quickly and meticulously.

The door to the bathroom opened.

"Are you about done yet?"

She scowled and water ran into her mouth. Spitting it out, she mumbled, "Just a minute," all the while wondering why she couldn't use some of that expensive spray on dye that he was wearing the night she met him.

Groping up with one hand, she turned off the water, and carefully maneuvered her head from out of the sink.

Howl was staring at her with a surprised and confused expression on his face. Pushing past her, he grabbed the hair dye box out of the rubbish bin where she'd chucked it, and turned it over in his hands. "Brown," he muttered, peering inside it. "I definitely gave you the bloody brown one. And those were my last two boxes of dye...buggering hell."

"What's wrong?" She asked, trying to catch his attention as he crumpled the box with one hand, the other combing through his now light brown hair distractedly. He froze, pushed her towards the door in order to stand properly in front of the mirror. She could've sworn his face began to crumple as he ran his hands through his hair with obvious distress.

He let out an aggravated sigh, and let his arms flop to his sides. "I don't have bloody time for this. C'mon." He strode out of the bathroom, but it did nothing to distract Sophie from the unhappy hitch his voice had taken.

She made to follow, but remembered the fuss he was making and the faces he made at her. Slowly, she walked in front of the mirror, only to see that her hair was a bright, white, platinum blonde. She lifted a lock of hair limply, before letting it flop back down. Instead of brown, she got blonde.

Their hair dye packets must've been switched. The box was not sealed when she opened it. Sophie snorted in amusement. Even though she looked like an old lady from behind now, she had the pleasure of seeing that self-absorbed wanker angsting like a teenager because his hair looks like mouse fur.

As she walked out into the main room, she ignored the little voice in her head proclaiming that he was still fit, even with mousey hair.

* * *

><p>They'd been sitting for about ten minutes, in relative silence. Howl was pulling distractedly at his hair, and seemed to be trying to take his mind off of it by thoroughly inspecting a rather large shotgun, one he kept under the kitchen sink.<p>

She tapped her fingers on the table, slightly intimidated (slightly is all that she would admit to herself), and quite peeved. He was so adamant that she leave the bathroom, and she was ready to hear some sort of workable plan that would return her to her old life. Instead, he was ignoring her.

"Howl," she started.

Silence.

"Howl Jenkins."

He merely loaded the shotgun, flipping it to click it closed.

"Howl."

Nothing.

She threaded her fingers through her hair, pulling it back frustratedly. Unfortunately, the motion pulled at bruises and scratches, especially those on her hands. She hissed in pain.

He glanced up at her, and she saw his eyes catalog all the different bandages she had on, and the places she didn't (but noticeably had scratches).

"There's painkillers in the medicine cabinet," he said after a few seconds, before returning to his gun.

"I don't need painkillers!" Sophie burst out. "I need to go home! I need a car, I need my life back, I need to get out of here!"

He stared at her incredulously.

"And most of all," she calmly stated. "I need to be away from you, Howl Jen—"

A shrill ring startled her out of her sentence, and she jumped in her chair. The sound was coming from the bathroom, and she belatedly realized that it was her mobile phone. She headed towards the sound, but Howl ran in before she could get two steps. He emerged with her phone, now silenced, and proceeded to dismantle it.

"Hey! What—what are you doing! That's my—!"

He silenced her with a look, as he took out the phone's sim card and proceeded to break it in two. Sophie stared, shocked and affronted.

"Trackable," he explained, dropping the rest of her phone of the floor before heading into the bedroom. He came out with a pane of glass.

"Since you broke my window, we will be delayed in setting out. Go into the bedroom and change clothes." He then proceeded to pry out the bottom part of the window.

Sophie stood where she had been standing for the past few minutes, fuming.

"And you couldn't have done that ten minutes ago? No, you had to fiddle with that stupid gun and watch me twiddle my thumbs. And that window is hardly my fault, since you failed to mention that on my journey across _air,_ mind you, the window I would encounter would be bloody _locked_! And then you had the audacity to break my things? After making me cut off my hair and dyeing it this ridiculous color, only one step more ridiculous than yours! You caused me my car and my safety! And Lettie and Martha are going to be absolutely frantic and I will have no way to explain _any_ of this to the authorities. So don't you _dare_ talk to me like, like some irresponsible child!"

And with that, she stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut.

Her throat was a bit raw, and moisture pricked her eyes from her emotional discharge, but she felt a bit better.

Jaw trembling a bit from now suppressed tears, she opened the closet door. Inside, there was a gigantic mess of clothing. There were children's clothes, men's clothes, and women's clothes all mixed in together and Sophie could not even fathom why this strange man would have all of these. With a shaky sigh, she began to pull things out onto the floor into a big pile to sort through.

As she was holding up what may or may not have been a dress, she suddenly burst into tears.

* * *

><p>A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened, and Howl was greeted by the sight of the slight girl nearly swamped in clothes, sobbing her heart out. He winced in chagrin. Crying girls were not his forte. Neither was tact, but that was more selective.<p>

Walking over quietly, he eyed the pile of clothes, and then the open closet door from which more spilled out. Deftly, he picked out a shirt, a pair of jeans, a jacket, and (after some rummaging) a pair of clean underwear. He put them on the bed.

Sophie stared at him, her crying jag slowly ending as she watched him easily sort through the clothes for her. He wouldn't meet her eye, until he placed the clothes on the bed.

"Get changed," he said softly, although his eyes were still distant. "We'll be leaving soon."

With a sniff, Sophie stood up and watched as he left the room, before inspecting the clothes he picked out. A blue, long sleeved slim shirt. Dark wash jeans. Panties with little polka dots. A black jumper-cross-blazer jacket.

Everything was her size.

Everything was designer.

She raised a hand to her aching forehead and sighed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<br>148 hits! (:  
>But only 12 reviews... ):<br>Thank you for reading!  
>And to those who reviewed, I will be replying soon, and you all get a cookie. A cookie that Howl baked especially for you. c:<strong>

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chaptah. REVIEW PLEASE.**  
><strong>Because reviews are like happiness in word form.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: All characters below belong to Dianna Wynne Jones (minus those who are obviously not)._

**AN: This is a tiny bit fillerish but I didn't want to make it too long, and so thus deal with it. I added an outtake to the end as an apology. An apology that chapter 25 for Aftermath is still being written...painstakingly...because college makes me do work too.**

Unhappy Happenstance

**Chapter 3: Lock and Key**

Howl was pacing impatiently in the living room when Sophie emerged from the bedroom, changed. She eyed the rather drab black trenchcoat he was now sporting, and cleared her throat to announce her presence. Without looking at her, he ceased his pacing abruptly and opened the apartment door, pausing outside for her. Seeing her purse slumped on the table, she grabbed it and slung it over her head before following Howl out the door.

He shut it tightly behind her and locked it with a flash of silver. Sophie caught a quick frown on his face as he eyed her hair, before he started down the hallway. With a sigh, she followed, uncomfortably adjusting the unfamiliar clothes. The stairway was placed squarely in one corner of the building, and by the time they got to the third floor, Sophie was feeling sick from all the abrupt turns around banisters. The place was musty and dark, the corners shadowed with dirt and dust. The banister was shiny from the passage of a myriad hands, but its age was evident. Sophie nearly slipped once on the smoothness of the stairs, the middle deceptively sloping concave.

Howl's coat billowed slightly behind him, sending the sent of his cologne backwards with every movement induced gust. Fingering a button on her coat, Sophie ignored the nervous excitement and trepidation that pooled in her stomach. All she wanted, right then, was to go back to her apartment and pretend that today never happened. Unfortunately, there was no use in wishing.

Sophie stumbled, ready to turn onto the next flight of stairs only to find that they'd reached the main floor. A glance out of the twin glass doors manning the front showed that the weather had turned foul again. As they came closer to the doors, she could make out a familiar black car. Howl paused at the door, seemingly checking whether or not the rain was too heavy. Sophie could see his eyes dart to his periphery.

After a moment, he nodded at her and pushed open the door, stepping out into the downpour. Sophie followed, jumping into the backseat as Howl claimed the passenger side.

There was a snort.

"Nice hair, _Pendragon._"

The next few seconds of silence made Sophie feel cold with apprehension.

"Not another word Calcifer," finally came Howl's voice, low and deadly. The driver merely chuckled, and turned to face Sophie.

"'Ello there. You must be Sophie."

It took her a moment to reply. Out from behind delicately slanted eyes sparked the most electric blue eyes Sophie had ever seen. The only thing that distracted her from them was the outrageously spiked hair, dyed various shades of yellow, red, and orange. The most demure thing she could find was a green eyebrow ring, hanging snugly over his left eye.

"U-uhm, hello," she stuttered out.

"Less talking, more going. I'd rather like to keep our trail cold, thanks very much." Howl sounded rather strained.

"Alright, _fine,_" Calcifer groused. With a grumble, he turned back straight and started the engine with a roar. "It's not like this isn't my day off, or anything. Bloody slave driver."

Sophie didn't have a chance to hear if Howl deigned a reply, because she was too busy fumbling for anything to hold onto as the car shot forward. Grabbing hold of her seatbelt, she fumbled to click it in, before slumping back tiredly in the seat. She saw that Howl looked perfectly settled, and a sour look came over her face. He was rather vocal during _her_ erratic driving.

Rain pattered hard on the windshield, and she could see Calcifer leaning forward as he attempted to see through the blur. It looked like the windshield wipers were not exactly working well against the onslaught of water. Sophie looked out her own window, and all she could see were the blurred lights of passing cars.

Howl was murmuring softly on his mobile phone, his elbow leaning against his window as he spoke. Sitting right behind him, she didn't see much of him aside from bits of his rather awful looking hair, but just knowing he was there sent shivers down her spine. She huffed and crossed her arms, curling into herself.

The grey light from outside filtered bleakly in the car. It wasn't long before the dim roar of the engine lulled Sophie into a fitful nap.

* * *

><p>She was roughly shaken awake, a warm hand grasping her shoulder while cold air blew raindrops onto her cheek. Eyes unsticking, she blearily made out Howl's face as he tugged her out of the seatbelt, and then onto the street.<p>

They were in front of a nondescript townhouse in a nicer part of town. They walked over to a green door with no brass numbers indicating it's address, and as they waited for Calcifer to unlock it, Sophie noticed how quiet and dreary the area looked. Not exactly the place she'd imagined a spitfire like her new 'friend' would live in. The door finally opened with a jiggle and a shoulder bump.

The inside surprised her. Although it was obvious that bachelors lived in this place (she definitely spied a good dozen empty beer bottles scattered on various tabletops, amongst other debris), the place was open and big. The walls were painted an eggshell cream color, the furniture contrasting in deep browns. Paintings were scattered across the hallway walls, and the carpeted stairs led up into obscurity. Her shoes echoed on the hardwood floors, and she winced as they squeaked from the rain.

Clutching her purse protectively, she followed the two men as they made their way towards the back of the townhouse, into the kitchen. Howl sat her down on a bar stool, and without a word, opened a door and descended into wherever it led. Calcifer, stretching rather loudly, smacked his lips and bee-lined to the fridge, pulling out a six-pack and a plate of cold cuts.

"Hungry?" he asked, popping off all the caps to each beer.

Sophie eyed what he'd laid out, ignoring the rumble of her stomach. She hadn't eaten since her meager breakfast this morning, but that didn't mean she was hungry enough to eat only _that._

"Uhm," she started. "I...do you have anything besides beer...and ham?"

His cat-like eyes narrowed at her as he took a swig from a bottle. "It's pastrami beef," he said after swallowing. "Is that not good enough for Miss Tag-along?"

It was Sophie's turn to narrow her eyes. "Look, just because I don't like filling an empty stomach with alcohol and meat doesn't mean I'm less of a person."

She hopped off the bar stool and went over to the fridge. "Don't you have sandwich stuff? Or something?"

Sophie heard him huff behind her. "Whatever lady. This isn't Martha Stewart's Kitchen."

She turned. "Who's Martha Stewart?" she asked, puzzled.

Calcifer was too busy leaving the room in a display of disapproval to answer.

* * *

><p>Sophie was in the middle of stirring a pot of melted cheese and farfalle pasta, when a loud bang came from below her. Another bang followed, followed by what seemed to be muffled swearing. Startled, she turned off the stove, and made her way to the door that Howl had disappeared through, when it banged open.<p>

She let out an 'eep!', before staggering backwards as a young man (couldn't have been over 18) sprinted into the kitchen. Skidding to a stop before Sophie, he took in several jagged breaths, before sitting on the bar stool she'd recently occupied.

"Hey there," he said quite calmly. "I'm Michael. You must be Sophie?"

Sophie stared at him a moment, before replying. "Right. Are you okay? What happened?"

"Ah, lovely lovely," he nodded. "I'm quite alright. It's just that Howl has had some news he rather dislikes and I thought it best if I waited upstairs until he's recovered from his...er..." His brow furrowed as he sought an appropriate word.

"Tantrum?" Sophie suggested.

Michael stifled a laugh. "Hah no no, well...perhaps internal conflict would be a better description."

She huffed, and stalked back to the stove. "Well, whatever. I've seriously had enough of that man's antics." The cheese pasta smelled so good to her poor, shriveled stomach. She licked the spoon, set it in the dishwasher (a very empty dishwasher), and began opening and closing cabinets in search of a bowl. "Bowl, bowl, bowl," she murmured.

Michael swiveled on his stool to look at her as she puttered inside a lazy susan. "You cooked?" he asked, sounding a bit wary.

Sophie looked up from her crouched position at Michael over the island. "I don't know about you, but beer and beef aren't exactly my idea of tasty."

He shrugged. "Yea, I suppose. It's just that...," he trailed off.

She popped up, bowl-less, and looked at him arms akimbo.

Michael rubbed the back of his head, seemingly embarrassed.

"It's just that only Howl cooks. Calcifer can't be bothered, even though he's better at it. It's odd to see someone else actually using the kitchen."

Sophie raised an eyebrow. The only thing that surprised her was that any one of them knew how to cook. And she hardly expected the only one to do it was Howl.

"Bowls are in the cabinet next to the fridge, by the way," added Michael. "I'll get them."

She watched the lanky boy reach up and pull down two bowls, before opening a nearby drawer to pull out a rather bent spoon and a dessert fork.

"Two?" inquired Sophie playfully.

Michael just shrugged and held up the two mismatched utensils. "Choose your weapon."

She gave him and the spoon a bemused glance, before picking the fork. As if answering her silent question, he nodded his head towards the sink. "Everything else is in the sink. Hasn't been cleaned in...oh I don't know how long."

Sophie shuddered. She had seen the sink earlier, while filling up the pot to boil water for pasta.

It was a formidable sight.

With his spoon, Michael doled out the pasta from the pot between them, and chinked his bowl against hers before he started eating.

Sophie's stomach growled in quiet anticipation as she dug in herself.

* * *

><p>The kitchen stayed quiet as they ate, aside from a random clunk that would come up from the basement and small bits of conversation. Michael told her, after some persistent verbal poking, that he was Howl's assistant (although for what he wouldn't say). Calcifer was apparently Howl's right hand man, and all three of them had been working together since Michael was fifteen.<p>

"I was just a bum teenager on the street," he'd told Sophie. "I got into a fight with some drunk blokes who were trying to steal an old granny's trolly. Howl came by, saved me, and I've been with him since."

_Sounds familiar_, Sophie had thought sourly.

Sophie had just finished describing her sisters, when the already open basement door banged against the wall, and Howl stalked into the room.

"Go clean downstairs," he ordered.

With a sigh, Michael abandoned his nearly finished bowl. "Nice talking to you Sophie," he smiled, and walked unenthusiastically down into what Sophie thought would most likely be a disaster.

Without missing a beat, Howl slid into Michael's seat, and began eating from the bowl.

"Hey!" cried out Sophie. Howl merely raised his eyes up at her. "That...that was Michael's."

Howl huffed, and pointed the bent spoon at her, a piece of pasta hanging off. "And it's my pasta and my cheese. I think I deserve it after having to do all that work while my assistant slacked off."

"Work." Sophie snorted. "All I heard was a rather extended temper tantrum. Why exactly were you stomping around like a sore three year old?"

"None of your concern. And I wasn't having a tantrum," he spat.

Sophie rolled her eyes. Setting down her fork, she pushed both fork and bowl aside, leaning forward seriously.

"Howl. When can I go home?"

The brunette man sighed, and rubbed his face. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? I can't just leave my life, and then pop back in like everything was normal! I have a job, I have university, I have a family!" She banged her fist on the table.

"Look," Howl said quietly. "You are in a sensitive and dangerous position. If you leave now, you risk your life and your family's. Not to mention mine."

Clenching her fist, Sophie ignored the shivers of frustration that made her toes curl. "Can't I at least call my family, let them know I'm alright?"

"God, woman. You need to be hidden. They'll be hunting me, hunting you. If they catch your voice on the telephone monitors, I might as well just put you on top of Big Ben with a sign that says 'Look Here!'. Phone calls are absolutely out of the question."

"But—"

"No, Sophie! Discussion over." He stood up, scraping the stool against the floor, and walked out of the room with bowl in hand.

Sophie covered her face in her hands, and let out a scream.

* * *

><p>It was late at night and Sophie was standing at the sink, arms covered in suds to the elbows. After her fight with Howl, he'd gone back to the basement and hadn't come out. Calcifer wandered in and out of the kitchen, complaining about various things (read: Sophie), and Michael came up once to grab the pastrami before he too disappeared.<p>

Restless, upset, and extremely bored, Sophie did what anyone else would do in her situation: clean. The place was an absolute mess.

She started by going around the first floor with a trash bag, picking up all the beer bottles and placing them inside for recycling. Then, she went around with a new bag and picked up any other garbage. Finally, she picked up the dirty plates, glasses, forks, knives, spoons, ladles, and salad bowl from their misplaced places and stuck them all by the sink to be washed.

And so there she was, now cleaning what must have been the thirtieth plate. She'd filled the dishwasher an hour ago. Why they had so many plates, she couldn't say. They didn't all match though, so she was beginning to suspect that whenever they'd run out of plates, they would just buy new ones. Disgusting.

An affected sigh came from the doorjamb. Without looking, Sophie could already tell it was Calcifer.

"What," he stated. "Are you doing."

Rolling her eyes, she began to scrub a rather stubborn stain with the brush. If he didn't figure it out the first time, she wasn't going to bother.

"I mean, honestly. It's not like you're our guest or anything, but there's no need for you to go around messing with our stuff."

"Don't you have people to kill?" Sophie spat out, a little breathless after vigorously scrubbing a plate.

"It's my day off," he said petulantly.

"Well, go enjoy your day off somewhere away from me," she said, enunciating each word.

"But I'm bored. I've nothing to do. And here you are, _cleaning_ of all things."

"I'm _cleaning_ because _I'm_ bored. And I can't sit around in this disgusting mess, looking at it, not doing anything about it. How you people manage to survive in this place is beyond me."

Calcifer sat down at the island with a thump. "Entertain me." Completely ignoring what she said.

At that, Sophie put down the wine glass she was swiping, and slowly turned to face him.

"What."

"Entertain me," he repeated. "You've got to be some kind of interesting for Howl to bring you back _here. _Let's see it."Calcifer leaned forward, propping his chin iup on one hand.

Sophie let out a long sigh, and returned to her wine glass. "I'm not interesting at all. It was just a case of bad circumstance that I'm here."

"Whatever," Calcifer twirled his left hand idly. "Tell me what happened."

She let out a huff.

"He saved me from two overgrown pigs, bled all over my sofa, demanded a favor the next morning, and then left. Courtesy of you," she nodded at him. He cast her a mocking bow. "Couple weeks later, he hijacks my car and me in order to runaway from people who want to kill him. We escape. You take us here. End of."

Calcifer blew out some air. "I see what you mean."

"God, right?" She turned towards him. "Howl is so insensitive and irrational and pigheaded. I can't stand him."

"No, I meant 'not interesting'. Although if you aren't falling arse over heels for him, I can give you some credit." His eyes twinkled dangerously at her.

"His personality kind of kills any attraction," she mumbled, annoyed, and then turned back to the sink.

"Well no worries. He doesn't like gingers."

"You're a ginger," she pointed out.

Calcifer shrugged. "I'm a fake ginger. It doesn't—"

"Wait," Sophie cut him off abruptly. "How do you know I'm a red head?" She pointed to a piece of platinum dyed hair.

He scraped out of his stool, and yawned. "The dye is already starting to melt off. Roots are showing." He sauntered out of the room.

Shaking, Sophie reached a hand up to the top of her head, and gingerly placed it down. There was a distinct sticky feeling, and when she pulled her hand away her fingers brought something with it.

"Oh, ew!"

* * *

><p>The sound of murmuring voices woke her from where she was curled up on the now somewhat clean sofa. The warmth surrounding her began to draw her back into slumber, when she felt a presence coming near her. Soft footsteps approached where she lay, until she could feel the whoosh of someone sitting down next to her, on the floor. A familiar perfume passed by her nose, and she sighed inwardly.<p>

"What am I going to do with you," she heard Howl murmur. Or perhaps it was just, "What am I going to do?" Sophie couldn't tell.

Almost involuntarily, Sophie sighed, and snuggled deeper into the sofa. Belatedly, she realized someone had put a blanket over her. No wonder she was so toasty.

"Sophie? Are you awake?" His voice was low, and sounded even closer.

She cracked open an eye. She'd briefly debated faking, but knowing that he'd be staring at her face she'd never be able to pull it off.

Howl let out a sigh, and settled back against the cough, his head leaning back against her. She noticed it was back to black.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For what?" she croaked out sleepily. And then she remembered their fight. "Oh."

"Yes. I wish...that I could make everything right for you, right now." He turned to face her abruptly, hair whipping about. "I'll do my best. Please, be patient?"

She couldn't breathe. His face was so close, and his green eyes were darkened, rimmed by dark lashes, gleaming in the dim light. She'd never been this close to really notice his fine bone structure, and the light spray of pale freckles that dusted the bridge of his nose.

Seconds ticked by, but his determined countenance did not waver.

She let out a sigh, and closed her eyes. She was so close to agreeing, without realizing what she'd be agreeing to.

"I can't, Howl. As soon as I find the opportunity, I'm leaving."

She heard his exasperated sigh, and she felt his head fall to rest on her forearm. His hair tickled her nose. Sophie snuggled her face further down, and drifted back to sleep.

She didn't feel, an hour later, the lingering kiss Howl pressed to her brow, and she didn't hear the words murmured against her skin. She didn't hear the door to the townhouse click shut just afterwards, or the sound of screeching tires.

Instead, she dreamed of toast.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hur hur hur. That's all folks. Below is your gift. I also want you to know that this was an entirely serious idea I took, before I scrapped it and made the story you know. <strong>

* * *

><p>ALTERNATE<br>**So this takes place after Howl tells Sophie she owes him a favor, that morning, when she gets home and he's taken liberty of her shower and stuff. Enjoy~**

"Here is my favor. I would like you to infiltrate the organization of the Lady Waste, dressed to the nines, seduce her, drug her, and then let me into her room. I will take care of the rest."

Sophie blinked at him. "You're kidding."

"I'm very not kidding, I assure you."

With a world weary sigh, she slumped forwards, bumping her head against the table.

"Although I understand the gravity of my circumstances upon you, I would appreciate an answer verbally."

"I'm channeling you. Would you care to give me a moment to process this ridiculous request of yours?"

He chuckled, and acquiesced by sitting back in his chair quietly.

"And who in the world calls themselves 'Lady Waste'," Sophie grumbled.

"It was a play on the term, 'laid to waste', I believe, indicating her rather volatile nature. The nickname stuck much to her displeasure. I suppose it would be important to know that she prefers to be called Lady Nightshade."

Sophie snorted. "Lady Nightshade?"

"She likes to think of herself as a deadly flower, blooming in—"

"Yea, I get it. Ugh."

Feeling near to tears from exhaustion and stress, she whimpered in her arms.

"Now that I think about it," Howl mused to himself, ignoring Sophie. "Those chavs of hers were most likely fetching you as a play thing for Lady Waste. To think I impeded an eventual plan of mine...though I would not have met you in the process..."

"Shut up, you lamer," muttered Sophie, her voice muffled against her sleeve. Gorgeous, toned, and insensitive. Life was wonderful.

"I don't think I appreciate your rudeness. I did save your life. Moving on though, the person you will be initially presented to is merely the figurehead of the organization. A weak deception, to confuse assassins. She will take you to a hidden room where the real Lady Waste will arrive, intent on ravishing you. The woman does have weird tastes..."

Sophie mumbled unintelligibly.

"I will also be in the building, following you. Before the woman arrives, you will let me in the room, or unlock the door. I will dispatch the fake Lady in the meantime. Once I'm finished, I'll be able to sneak in while you are...distracting her, and the rest shall be most likely a bloody and exciting affair for you."

She lifted her head up, peeking a glance at his serious face, before disappearing into her arm cave again.

"Alright," she ground out. "When are we doing this."

"Oh, tonight. You will need to catch her attention first, you know."

Sophie snapped straight up, quivering.

"Tonight!"

"Spontaneity gets the worm," he smiled, reaching over to tap her on the nose.

Rubbing her face indignantly, she scowled at him.

"No, absolutely not. It is a Friday night, I've had a hell of a week, and this is all going far to quickly for me to function properly. The fact that I had to sew up your sorry arse last night didn't exactly help either."

"You make it sound so naughty."

Sophie let out a scream of pure frustration, and pushed herself to her feet abruptly. "I'm going to bed, you can leave now."

She made to leave the room, but Howl had suddenly appeared in front of her, abruptly pushing her up against the wall. One hand placed next to her head, and the other making its way to cradle her jaw, he leaned in close, his nose nearly aligning with hers.

"Sophie. I need your help."

His warm breath washed over her face, smelling faintly of mint.

"You don't have to worry, it'll be a simple, simple job."

He nuzzled against her cheek, his lips nearly brushing the corner of her lips.

"What are you so worried about happening?"

Sophie swallowed, as her eyes tried to focus on the green orbs piercing her through.

"Uhm. Being laid to waste."

"I can assure you, the most you will suffer might be a few love bites."

"I-I'm really tired. I can't focus...and I'm definitely not a lesbian."

"If last night was any indication of your improvisation skills, you'll be just fine. And though we'll need to improve your sensuality, Lady Waste likes turning girls, regardless." He moved so his lips were hovering directly over hers, his sooty lashes fanning upon his cheek. "Trust me, Sophie. I need you."

A shuddering breath escaped her, and overwhelmed, she nodded weakly.

"Wonderful!" He stepped back, smiling a bright smile that did not reach his calculating gaze. "I'll just text Calcifer."

"Uhm," she cleared her throat, trying to find her voice. Her heart was pounding wildly, and she was pretty sure Howl could hear it. "Calcifer?"

"Oh, yes, he's my partner. He called earlier?" He took his phone out of his pocket, and stooped slightly as he began a message. It was almost comical to see this abnormal man doing something so...well, normal.

He turned his back to her, and walked into the living room. Not even a second later, she heard a snap of his phone, and then he reappeared, pulling on his shirt. Sophie momentarily mourned the loss of her view.

"Right-o, go put on something presentable, and we'll get going."

She looked at him blankly. "Can't I go like this?"

He rolled his eyes. "Did 'seduction mission' not get across to you? Go put on something sexy. If you have anything..." He gave her clothes a distasteful once over.

Scowling, she crossed her arms against her chest. "No, I do not. Unless you want me to wear a pantsuit."

Howl sighed, and raked a hand through his hair. "Fine. We shall peruse my boudoir." There was a slight buzz and he looked down at his phone. "Let's go, Cal's here."

Sophie merely gave him the look of a drowning woman. Shaking his head, he grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the door, considerately plucking her keys up on the way.

–

The car was extremely quiet.

The minute she and Howl had left the apartment building, a discreet black car had pulled up. Howl opened the back door, shoved her in, and then settled into the passenger seat. Calcifer, from what she could see in the dim light of the dashboard, was a very tanned man, with spiked hair that stuck out in every direction. He too was quite handsome, and the looked to be at least part Asian. She assumed he was a red-head, recalling Howl's ginger comment. And throughout the entire ride, Calcifer was mumbling irritatedly under his breath, while Howl cheerfully ignored him.

Curling her knees to her chest (there were no seat belts), Sophie felt slightly sick, and once again cursed Lettie. Obviously, this would never have happened if Lettie had just bummed a lift from her boyfriend, even though his work was in the complete opposite direction of hers. She let out a pitiful sigh, and let her head slump against her knees.

The car stopped abruptly, causing Sophie to jerk forward and fall between the seats. Her door opened right after, revealing an impatient Howl who grabbed her arm and lifter her out of the car. His slight wince at the effort didn't escape her, and she bit her lip nervously.

"Uhm, is your arm okay?"

"Just fine, just fine. You did a fine job," he said, ushering her impatiently to the door of a townhouse. Calcifer had already gone in, and the door was left ajar. Rubbing the goosebumps away from her arms, she walked in and Howl shut the door behind her.

"Let's see. What size are you?"

Sophie glared at him, before muttering out her dress size.

"What was that?"

"TEN, I said."

"Oh. Well, what I had in mind is an eight, but I'm sure it'll be fine. Up the stairs now."

Sophie trudged upwards, her arms curled around her torso. Howl directed her to the first room on the left, and told her to wait. Shuffling her feet awkwardly, she glanced around the room, taking in its sparse, but elegant décor. There was a bathroom attached, and she peeked her head in. A shower stall was tucked into the corner, except it was less of a stall and more of a solitary shower head, as there were no doors. Or dividers. Or anything. A toilet sat on the opposite side of the room, with a sink next to it.

Sighing, she went back into the bedroom, just in time to see Howl walking in with something very silky, and very blue in his hands.

"Go take a shower, there should be a blow-dryer in there too, and then put this on. There's a razor in there too, and other toiletries to make yourself pretty."

He laid the dress on the bed, shooed her into the bathroom, and then left without another glance. Sophie walked across the room to shut the door, which Howl had apparently forgotten to close, and was pulling off her sweatshirt when the door opened again.

"Here's some makeup, be sparing, Calcifer doesn't like to share. Nice bellybutton."

Sophie nearly stomped in frustration as he left again, shutting the door with a soft click.

–

A nice hot shower, blow dry, exfoliate, and moisturize later, Sophie was tugging on the dress. It was strapless, so she had to abandon her off white bra that had seen better days. The dress was a deep sapphire blue, pulling off a rich color that usually only taffeta could. The fabric felt amazing against her freshly shaved legs, although it clung far more than she was comfortable with. Usually, she bought sizes that were slightly loose on her, because they were a lot more comfortable to wear. This silky, slinky, high one side slit dress was definitely out of her comfort zone.

It slid on effortlessly, although as she reached behind to zip up, she remembered that the dress was supposed to be tied on, like a corset.

_Shit. Mother effing flaahh._

Shuffling to the door, holding up the front of the dress, she opened the door and peeked her head out.

"Uhm, Howl?" Her voice echoed in the empty corridor. A door opened, and she saw Calcifer walk out towards her.

"He's busy. What do you need?"

Gulping, Sophie blushed and pointed towards her back.

"I, uhm, need some help lacing on the dress."

"...Alright. Go sit down."

She shuffled back into the room, and sat on the corner of the bed. Behind her, she could hear Calcifer pad towards her, and soon the touch of incredibly warm fingers was on her back, shifting her hair over her shoulder and delicately lacing the stays of the dress.

"I see you haven't put on any make up."

Sophie jumped slightly at the sound of his voice.

"Uhm, no...I wasn't exactly...well..."

"I can help you. And before you ask, I was into kabuki."

Sophie paused. "Ah. I wasn't going to, but that's cool."

"You think?" he asked, a little surprised, although she caught a hint of sarcasm.

"Yea," nodded Sophie. "I went to a play once with my sister, because we're into Japanese culture, and it was really good."

"Hm," he grunted, and continued to lace her up.

In no time, it was unnecessary for her to hold the dress up, as the fabric was now contouring to her curves, and straining visibly across her breasts. In fact, although it wasn't too the point of indecency, her boobs were rather accentuated. She could feel her blush darken, and she got to see it spread on her boobs too. Great.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt her hair being lifted up and twisted by Calcifer. She was surprised at his deft fingers, which were easily putting her hair in a lazy french twist. His touch was detached and professional, to her relief. She already felt extremely uncomfortable without lingering touches.

The image of Howl pinning her to the wall in her kitchen came to mind, and she felt her breath catch at the memory.

_Shit. Focus Sophie, reminding yourself of Howl sexing you up is absolutely the worst idea of all time right now._

She didn't realized she'd squinted her eyes shut when Calcifer's fingers had brushed across her forehead, arranging her unkempt fringe.

"Alright this will take two minutes to do your make up. Stay still, and don't scrunch your eyes like that. You look constipated."

Sophie snapped her eyes open, and glared, only to be met with an equal stare. Instantly cowed, she closed her eyes gently. In moments, the cool touch of a brush swept across her lid, and she succumbed to the calming process.

–

Two and a half minutes later, Sophie was waiting, fidgeting on the bed. Calcifer had just left to find her some shoes, and she could feel the chill of the room get to her as the warmth of her shower receded. She twiddled her thumbs, rubber her feet together, fingered her ear lobe, jumped to her feet to pace, and succeeding in tripping over the hem of the dress. Lifting the fabric up, she stalked into the bathroom, which was still slightly warm, and closed the door to revel in the steamy heat.

The mirror was still fogged up, and Sophie could see only her outline and the vibrant blue of her dress. Chewing her bottom lip slightly, she leaned forward, and wiped away some of the steam, to be met with the stare of a demoness.

Or at least, that was her very first thought. Calcifer had given her eyes a smoky, cat-like gaze, with sharp outlines drawn from her inner eye lid to taper slightly against the line of her nose. Blue eyes popped out of her face vibrantly, with no hint of the turmoil she felt.

"Used to do kabuki, indeed."

She was fierce looking, that was for sure. It made her feel a little better, because at the moment she was feeling the absolute opposite. Vindictively, she immediately wondered if she could blow Howl away, pay back for that moment in her kitchen. Her boobs were showing far more than she was happy with, but the draping of the fabric distracted the eye from her skin, the folds that accentuated her bosom holding shadows with dark promises.

With a small smile curling on her face, she walked out of the bathroom just as Calcifer stepped back into the bedroom, shiny jewelry in one hand, a dangerous pair of black heels dangling from two fingers in the other, along with a small scrap of fabric. Her eyes zeroed in on it.

"What is that?"

Calcifer motioned towards her behind. "I can see your panty lines. Very unsexy. Don't worry, this thong is very clean."

Sophie twisted behind her, and sure enough there were two distinct, curved lines on her backside. With a groan, she held out her hand, eyes closed in a grimace. She felt the piece of fabric placed in her hand, and the weight of the two shoes dangling by their straps on her pointer finger.

To her surprise, she heard a light chuckle as the door clicked. Eyes snapping open, she found herself alone again. Sophie grumbled, and roughly pulled down her panties, stuffing them with the rest of her discarded clothes, before tugging up the piece of butt floss. Wiggling to get accustomed to the lack of protection on her butt, she wrinkled her nose.

"This will be the first and last time I ever wear one of these things," she ground out, smoothing the fabric down her curves.

The shoes lay discarded on the floor, and Sophie shuffled over to pick them up, before shuffling back to the bed. The shoes had at least a three inch stiletto heel on them, dangerous and impractical. They were closed heel and toe, with an extremely inclined arch that made her feet ache on sight. The tops were to be secured with criss-crossing ribbon. Sophie stared, her mind unable to get over that those two lunatics expected her to wear _slut_ shoes. Blatant _come hither and fuck me _shoes.

"Which," Sophie mused aloud. "Is the point of this endeavor. Although their plan will surely backfire when I trip over myself and die."

Another sigh and grumble, and Sophie began the process of fitting her foot into the shoe, mashing her toes in and incarcerating her ankle in ribbons. Her foot was on such a ridiculous angle that she would essentially be walking on the balls of her feet. All the time. These shoes would impede a most likely future get-away.

Five or six minutes later, Sophie had finished encasing both feet, and stood up precariously. A few tentative steps, a few regular steps, and a slight jog later and Sophie was partially satisfied that she would live. Besides, she thought looking down at her exposed leg, these shoes made her legs look killer. If this didn't elicit a speechless Howl, she would officially retire to a nunnery.

"Sophie?" There was a knock on the door. "Time to go."

"Yea, okay." Tottering over, she picked up the jewelry from where it sat on the bed. One was a delicately spiraled silver arm bangle, which Sophie shoved up her bicep, and a pair of dangly earrings, which she fumbled putting into her ears while heading out of the room.

The stiletto shoes thankfully made the hem of the dress shorter, and Sophie made it to the door with very little trouble. The hallway was empty as she emerged from the room, and she supposed that they were downstairs already. A couple small steps led her to the stairs, where she began to inch down step by step with a martyred expression on her face, clinging with both hands to the banister.

Calcifer was waiting for her near the bottom, his hands shoved into the pockets of his windbreaker as he lazily leaned against the wall. He gave her a once over, and then nodded.

"A temptress for a temptress. Howl picks them well."

Sophie blushed, and thanked him (albeit slightly confused), though a moment later his words registered fully.

"Hold on, picked? Howl and I met by happenstance."

Calcifer merely shrugged, and Sophie frowned.

–

Howl was staring at his reflection, delicately aligning a contact lens onto his eye ball. He absolutely hated contacts, and he'd never found a company that made them as well as he would've liked. However, he knew Lady Waste would be insulted if he just walked in without any attempt at subterfuge. If that happened, a fight would break out immediately.

In costume, however, she was more amenable to play. He'd given his hair a violet tinge, and the contacts he was painstakingly placing on his eyes were a deep, onyx black. Normally he wouldn't deign to dress himself so dark, so close to his original self, but Lady Waste had never seen him before as such.

As he finished putting in the second lens, he considered darkening his skin. It was one thing to change the color of your hair, or your eyes, but your skin...he'd only done that once and it was a rather tedious task. The tan spray was also a bitch to wash off. However...

Howl shrugged, and began stripping off his clothes, before rummaging in a drawer for a shower cap. Now to warm up the spray machine...

An hour later, Howl walked out of the tanning room with a sneeze, and pulled off his shower cap with a shake of hair. The nice thing about the spray versus the rub on was that it dried much faster, with a more even coating.

"You look like a gypsy."

Ignoring Calcifer's disapproving stare, he pulled out the clothes he'd set out for the night. He would be dressing completely in black, in order to complement Sophie's ensemble. He didn't want to _completely_ blow her out of the water. He paused in his dressing for a moment, wondering if his looks would diminish hers and thus would prove to be detrimental to the plan.

"Hurry up, we've been waiting for over an hour already, and she's on the verge of watering."

At that, Howl turned to see Calcifer's perturbed face. Laughing, he shook his head and pulled on his fitted pants.

"Oh Cal, times like these I wonder who taught you English again. You never did tell me, you know."

His partner did not respond, unless one counted silently leaving the room and slamming the door behind them a response.

Shrugging, Howl pulled his arms through the sleeves of his button up shirt, lazily buttoning it up from the bottom. If things worked out as he wanted tonight, Lady Waste would get a nice eyeful of both himself and the girl, and hopefully she'd be intrigued with his bait. She wasn't stupid of course, she'd figure out that Howl wanted to get near her.

Then again, she hadn't seen him in person for years, so the probability of being recognized was indeed low. Howl sighed.

Grabbing a leather jacket, and slipping on polished loafers, he finished dressing, and left the room with one last hair fluff.

–

Calcifer had seated her in the sitting room, which was decorated to look like a 19th century parlor. All lace, frills, and patterned fabrics. Nevertheless, it still retained a masculine look. It was a manly woman parlor. It hadn't surprised her in the least bit, although having to wait for Howl for a little over an hour now—she had glanced at the little clock on the fireplace mantle just then—completely rearranged her initial impression. Now he was a gorgeous, insensitive, dangerous, inconsiderately late lamer.

She and Calcifer had sat quietly in the parlor for a while, and he asked her every few minutes little things about her job, and her schooling. They had a brief discussion about the merits of feudal Japan versus the westernization that arrived with the Meiji era, until Calcifer became so visibly agitated that he excused himself to go check on Howl.

Sophie was left alone with the ticking of the mantlepiece clock, feeling a little chilly in her dress, though not to the point of goosebumps, and the idea of the mission she was undertaking was beginning to sink in. Her stomach felt like it was contracting into itself, and a tension headache was coming on. She rubbed a hand across the back of her neck, pressing slightly along her spine to alleviate some of the pain.

It was a helpful distraction, but the fear and the worry weren't as easy to dispel. Now that she had a chance to breathe, she recounted the past twenty four hours. She'd had a morning astronomy class on that awful day, and then afterward there was an afternoon meeting to discuss an expansion of the company from hats into clothing. That had lasted forever, because the board members who were less fashionably inclined were too worried about a lack of positive response. She walked home at eight o'clock after escaping dinner with her stepmother, was rained on, was accosted by two brainless thugs, was saved by a mysterious man who got stabbed and so she felt guilty and obliged to stitch him up at her flat. Where he passed out. She dragged him onto her couch, nursed him, went to bed. The next morning, she got up, ignored the motionless lump on her sofa, went to a shitty day of work, went to a lecture, and then went home, where she was shanghaied into the position she was now.

All in all, it was a very busy two days, and she had a feeling her weekend was shot. So much for a relaxing two days of lazy do-nothing-but-eat-chocolate.

"I really need to learn how to say no."

"Words to live by," said Calcifer's fiery head, which was poking into the room. "He's finally all dressed, let's go."

Sophie stood up gingerly, brushing down her dress, and walked towards Calcifer cautiously. "What do you mean, dressed? He was just dressing? Since we got here?"

Calcifer shrugged, and stepped into the room, whipping out a pretty black shawl to wrap delicately about her shoulders. "He spends no less than two hours at least, before he goes out. You'll get used to it."

"Thanks. Wow. Well, now he's an insensitive, dangerous, inconsiderately late lamer, who's also extremely vain," she declared, intentionally leaving out her opinion on his physical appeal. "I'm only here because I've been roped into this, but I can hardly how you've stayed friends with Howl."

Calcifer was walking out of the room when he stiffened at her words. Turning to look at her, a small smile graced his thin lips. "He isn't my friend."

A slight frown marred Sophie's features as she allowed Calcifer to escort her out of the room, consciously trying to walk heel toe, one foot after the other, cursing the idiot who decided that wearing stilts was fashionable.

It was interesting that Calcifer did not consider Howl as a friend, even though they were partners. A sudden blush rose to her cheeks, as she wondered if they were partners of a different kind? Calcifer did say that they weren't friends...

Shaking her head at the silly thoughts, she highly doubted that the two were romantically involved, judging by the unhappy frown that now rested on Calcifer's face.

It was definitely her personality that was a turn off. Because when she and Calcifer turned into the front hall, Howl was waiting and Sophie had to remind herself to breath.

His skin was now a burnished gold-brown, that highlighted the apples of his cheeks. Not as appealing as the lightly gold tan that she was familiar with, but it reminded her of hot sultry nights in the Arabian sands. She blamed Lettie's romance novels. His hair didn't help either, as he'd kept it dark, so dark it shined violet. The only thing she missed were his vibrant green eyes that now hid behind two dark cesspools. His eyes were the only thing that kept her sane. Sophie supposed that if she'd never seen his real eyes, there would have been no hope for her that night. That, and the fact that he hardly glanced over her before ushering her out the door, Calcifer already outside unlocking the car.

Miffed at his lack of interest, she ignored his helping hand into the car and squirmed into the back seat with a sour pout.

"Alright then Cal," Howl said, unperturbed, as he slid into the passenger seat. "Let's go to the seaside club, our Lady is usually there this time of year."

Calcifer merely grunted, and mumbled something about always being taken advantage of and how this escapade was completely ridiculous and unnecessary and that Howl and the Lady had too much in common, including an overly delayed sense of time and that they should both just be offed.

Howl merely chuckled, and turned up the radio so he could hum along with the songs.

Sophie sat in the back, lying across the backseat on her side, feeling irritated, sleepy, used, and unappreciated. The fact that she was quite familiar with these feelings irritated her even more, and she closed her eyes, so at least she could imagine her life didn't suck in her head.

–

Jesus Christ the woman cleaned up well. No, well was too light a word. When Howl watched her glide into the room, the sudden urge to slam her against the wall and take her there was incredibly overwhelming. And now, she was draped across the backseat of his car, like an Egyptian minx, just waiting to be claimed. The way her lashes fluttered against her cheek, the pale curve of her shoulder pressed to dark leather, the golden orange of her flaming hair against the gem of her dress. And her breasts, the way they heaved against the fabric, begging to be released...he needed to stop peeking glances, but he couldn't help himself.

She was still pouting too, and the rosy expanse of her mouth was divine and ripe for the plucking. Sure, she was mildly cute in her baggy grey sacks and bedhead, but he never imagined she'd turn out so well. He bet that she'd attract Lady Waste tonight, and be in her rooms in two days if he allowed it.

Which, of course, he wouldn't.

He'd seen the way her eyes raked over him the minute they'd met. It was flattering at the time, but not particularly arousing. Now that he'd seen the curves this woman possessed, her beauty and sexuality awakened and polished before his eyes, he wanted his turn to play. If this assassination took three days, she'd be out of his life in a blink, with only a distasteful impression, and curious memories.

However, if this stretched out for the next few weeks...

Howl smiled, and ignored the warm ache growing in his belly.

He knew she wasn't a size ten.

–

**Yea. Then I was like, fuck this shit I don't want to write another novel. Ta til next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: All characters below belong to Dianna Wynne Jones (minus those who are obviously not)._

**AN: Important note at bottom.**

Unhappy Happenstance

**Chapter 4: Bandages and Bathrooms**

Sophie woke up with an extremely stiff neck. Groaning, she sat up groggily, painfully stretching her neck to the side. Usually her bed was quite comfortable, so she must have pushed the pillow off again.

She blinked her eyes open, and quickly discovered that she was not in her bed at home, not at all. The bachelor-esque surroundings immediately reminded her of her rather serious situation, and she slumped back down with a groan. Her mouth felt like it was filled with nasty tasting cotton, and her legs felt like two logs after having been encased in denim for far too long. She missed her comfortable grey joggers.

Shrugging out of her jacket while lying down was not exactly the easiest thing to do, but Sophie managed. She let it fall to the floor, and then curled up on her side, staring at the coffee table which she had spent half an hour on last night, scrubbing out the cup stains.

The front door opened and closed with a slam, making Sophie jump up and out of the sofa. Very loud swearing followed the loud noise, reassuring Sophie (from her crouched position) that it was only Howl. She looked about for a clock, but could not find one. The windows were curtained.

Sophie sighed, and stood up.

The loud swearing had turned into irritated mutterings that faded off into the kitchen's general area. Combing her hair with her fingers, she yawned, and walked into the kitchen, belatedly realizing that her fingers were now full of hair dye goop. She made a face.

The shiny refrigerator door greeted her, until it was slammed shut, and a Howl stalked out with an unopened beer.

"G'morning," she murmured, and sat herself down on one of the stools, wiping her hands on her pants.

"You." Howl pointed at her, rather angrily she gathered.

"Yes, hello."

Sophie watched him search about for the bottle opener, which she had put away in the kitchen utensil drawer she'd sorted out last night. He was searching in the oddest places, like under the sink, and in an empty cookie jar. Why he owned a cookie jar, Sophie could not fathom. There were no cookies.

"What have you done to my kitchen. I can't bloody find anything." He gave up searching, and instead pointed his beer at her.

"You mean you could find things, things that are _clean_, in that mess you introduced me to? I've clearly misjudged your skills."

Sophie suddenly wondered if they had any fruit, though she didn't recall seeing any anywhere. Which was kind of depressing, because fruit was a lovely cheer-up breakfast.

Howl took in a deep, deep breath, and let it out through his nose with a whoosh.

Before he could speak, Sophie stood up and made her way to the drawer next to him.

"God, don't fall apart. Look, this is the drawer with spatulas and stuff." She pulled out the can opener/bottle opener. "And look, bottle opener! And it doesn't have mold on it anymore, yay."

He snatched it out of her hand, whipped off the bottle cap, and started to chug down his beverage.

Sophie stared at him nonplussed.

"What's got you all hot and bothered?" she asked, settling once more on the kitchen stool. Actually, she thought again to herself, there really isn't any good food in this house, much less fruit.

"There isn't any good food in this house. Can I leave?" She propped her chin up on her hand, blinking her eyes sleepily.

Howl wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and chucked the bottle into the sink. Sophie squint-glared at the mess he made.

He tapped a finger against his lower lip, looking as if he wanted to strangle something.

"Look," he started, his voice clipped. "Obviously you are not understanding the position you are in. You _cannot_ leave. If you leave, everyone you love will die. Alright? Now stay quiet and _don't_ clean anything else."

He rubbed his forehead briskly.

Sophie's eyes narrowed, even as her stomach dropped in fear. "What do you mean, everyone I love will die? You aren't making sense."

His hand dropped, settling on the smooth granite counter.

"It's like you have the memory capacity of a goldfish. They know who you are. They know who your family is."

Sophie stared at him. "If I leave, and they capture me...so what? I don't know where we are. I know nothing about you. Honestly, if I'm annoying you this much, then just let me go."

"Sophie." Howl placed his other hand on the counter and leaned forward, his black button up shirt straining across his shoulders. "If they take you, it won't matter what you do or do not know. They will use your family against you. They will torture you, and then they will kill you."

"But...why? I'm hardly your right hand man."

"I'm..." he trailed off. "Look, it's just how it is," he spat. And with that, he strode angrily towards the basement door, yanked it open, and clattered down the steps.

She wiped angry tears from her eyelashes, and turned around to yank open the fridge.

Beer. And meat. With a tired sigh, she pulled out the package of deli slices and began to eat a piece morosely.

* * *

><p>Sophie wandered up the stairs.<p>

After the spat with Howl, she couldn't sit still. It irritated her to no end that she could never really get a good word in. It irritated her that Howl was being so pigheaded. It irritated her that Howl was most likely right.

She wanted to know what made even knowing Howl so dangerous. So he was involved with mafia. Did that mean he had to order in all his food in order to avoid a hit on his local grocer? How did he shop? The internet?

Actually, Sophie mused, that would make a lot of sense.

The landing revealed three doors, and a closet with weird, long shutters closing it. The walls were painted a light green, instead of the cream that was downstairs. The wainscoting and doorjambs were a dark wood.

She opened the closet, wincing as the hinges squeaked. In it were small piles of neatly folded sheets, towels, and various toiletries.

"Hm," Sophie hummed, looking at a fluffy towel speculatively. She closed the shutters.

Behind her was a door. She turned around and opened it. Inside was a bedroom, sparsely furnished. A bed was tucked in the corner, covered by white sheets and a white comforter. There was no pillow. Besides the bed, the only other pieces of furniture were a bedside table and a rickety chair. Calcifer's room? Michael's?

She closed the door.

In the room next to it was a rather large bathroom. It was a giant rectangle, with the sink and toilet directly to her left and the shower taking up the back wall. A claw-footed tub was angled in the corner to her right. Unlike the room she had just peeked into, it was a mess. The long, double sink counter was covered with shaving materials, boxes of hair dye, cosmetics, shampoos, and other weird containers Sophie couldn't identify. A toothbrush or two stuck out of the pile. There was a mirror over the sink covered in grime, and shelves on the wall packed with colorful, unreadable items. There was almost too much room used for the shower, but it had no enclosure. It was just a shower head in the wall with a handle to turn on the water and adjust the temperature, a drain in the tiled floor. A metallic hose dangled inside the empty porcelain tub.

Despite it's lack of privacy, the shower looked amazing to Sophie at that moment. She looked down at the door she was peeking around. There was the doorknob. And just the doorknob. No lock. That could be problematic.

She blew a strand of melty-platinum hair off of her face, and closed the door.

The next door beckoned.

Sophie reached out a hand, and grasped the door knob. Curving her fingers to get a good hold, she turned it.

But it wouldn't budge.

She took off her hand, and discovered a lock hole that was just under the doorknob. A lock hole that she had not noticed beforehand.

"Why does _this_ room have a lock, but not the bathroom?"

_It must be Howl's room_, Sophie thought. Her curiosity peaked. What was in Howl's room that needed to be locked up?

She tugged at the doorknob again, just in case she hadn't pulled hard enough last time.

Nothing.

She harrumphed. Foiled.

"Nosy, aren't we?" A voice rumbled behind her.

Sophie spun around. Howl was standing at the top of the stairs, staring at her.

Unconsciously placing a bandaged hand over her racing heart, she placed the other on her hip, akimbo.

"You can't blame me, especially since you won't let me clean anymore."

"God forbid," he replied drolly. "Come here."

Sophie blinked. "What?"

Howl sighed and shook his head, taking her by the arm and pulling her into the bathroom.

"Sit," he ordered, and pushed her down on the toilet seat. Sophie cringed, feeling the grimy surface of the plastic.

He kneeled in front of her, leaning in close. Although she was seated and he was on the floor, he still bent down over her. Strands of his hair, once again black, fell forward across his face.

"Here," he murmured, and took her injured hand, the one she'd placed over her heart moments ago. "These need to be checked." He began to unwind the bandages slowly, carefully. Sophie hissed when it began to pull at her cut skin.

Howl tossed the soiled bandage on the floor next to him, and lifted up her hand to inspect her cut knuckles and fingers. The cuts looked red and angry, stark against her pale skin. He tsk'd under his breath, and reached towards the counter, blindly fishing about for something.

Sophie looked over, hand still being held up by Howl, and saw him grab onto a small, round metal jar. He paused, glancing at the jar and then at Sophie. She suddenly felt extremely aware of her grimy hair.

"Perhaps you should take a shower first. Wash out any dirt that could be in any of your...wounds."

He stood up fluidly, and strode out of the room, coming back before the door closed with a towel in hand. Going over to the shelves, he plucked out two bottles and a bar of soap, placing them by the shower area. He draped the towel on the side of the tub.

"Michael has left, and Calcifer is busy downstairs. No one will disturb you." He walked to the door, pausing before he went out. Sophie noticed he was wearing old, worn jeans, the kind that made her stare at his arse. "Leave the door open when you're done."

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

She stared at the door, her lips slowing pursing together into a pout. He was so unfair. She couldn't follow his stupid, emotionally bipolar brain at all.

With a long sigh, she stood up from the toilet and slowly began to peel off her clothes. She winced as the shirt brushed nicks on her face, and as she stretched bruised muscles. Sockless, she padded over to the shower area clad in only jeans and her bra, her arms tucked around her torso.

After a moment of contemplative staring, Sophie reached out to touch the handle. As it turned under her fingers, a wide spray of water immediately sprang out of the shower head, dousing her with cold water.

She jumped back with a high pitched squeal, toes gripping the tiled floor. Shivering, she stepped back towards the handle, angling herself to avoid the water, and pushed the handle towards hot. Soon enough, steam began to rise and she slipped off the rest of her clothes.

The sigh that left her lips as she stepped into the warm spray was a happy one. Water plastered down her hair immediately, and she pulled through it vigorously. It was still strange, not feeling her hair tickling her lower back anymore. Her cuts stung angrily under the warmth, but the water felt so good that the stinging faded into the back of her mind.

All of a sudden, a wave of loneliness hit her. She stared, eyes wide, watching water drip down in front of her. All she wanted to do was go home. Slowly, she curled down to her knees, accepting the hiccups of tears that bubbled out of her throat.

* * *

><p>Sophie didn't know how long she sat there, but soon the water began to cool and she frantically stood to use the shampoo and soap as the water became freezing.<p>

She hadn't completely washed out all the soap when she turned off the water. Goosebumps speckled her flesh as she shivered her way to her towel. As she wrapped the fluffy, white cloth about her, she realized that she only had the dirty clothes she'd taken off to change back into. The shirt she could handle, but the jeans had hair goop on them, and it and the bra were still wet. She didn't even think about the used underwear.

The wet hair plastered to the back of her neck was getting cold fast. Tip toeing across the cool tiles, she went over to the door and opened it slowly, sticking her head out. The hallway was empty. Tightening her towel, she scampered over to the linen closet, quickly opening it to pull out a towel for her hair.

"All finished?"

Sophie squealed for the second time that day, immediately clutching the extra towel to her chest. Howl stood in the doorway of the locked room, clothes draped over his arm. He stepped into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him with a click.

"I...yea. Y-yes.," Sophie stuttered, her face turning red.

Howl didn't seem to be looking at her, but he held out his arm with the clothes.

"Here," he murmured. "Go put these on, and then we can take a look at your hand."

She stepped over to him, clutching the clothing and pulling it against her. "Thanks," she croaked, before hurrying back into the bathroom.

Chest heaving, back pressed against the door, Sophie waited until she felt the burning sensation leave her cheeks before she unsteadily tottered towards the tub. Draping the clothes over the porcelain edge, she shook out the towel she'd taken and wrapped her hair in it.

The clothes stared up at her, looking clean and comforting. Biting her lower lip, she picked up the first piece. It was a big, blue, men's cardigan that buttoned up the middle. It was so soft.

It smelled like Howl.

Placing it back on the tub, she picked up the other piece. Underwear fell out of it (but no bra, she noticed sadly), nice star-spangled ones. Looking back at the clothing in her hands, she realized it was a rather thin, white summer dress. Not exactly weather appropriate.

She supposed, unlike his little hidey-hole apartment, his place here wasn't exactly flush with woman's clothing. She decided to be grateful that there was even underwear, and to not question why he had it at all.

She had to roll the sleeves of the cardigan up a couple times, but she finally felt clean and warm and clothed. Opening the bathroom door, she saw that Howl was standing across from the door, leaning against the wall.

He'd been looking down, but as she stepped into the hallway he lifted his chin, greeting her with wide eyes.

There was a silent moment, and Sophie fidgeted nervously.

"Uhm," she started. "Thanks for the clothes."

"Ah," he cleared his throat. "Of course. Shall we?" He gestured towards her, indicating to go back into the bathroom.

She nodded quickly, and turned on her heel, Howl at her heels. He shut the door behind them. Obediently, Sophie sat again on the toilet, covering it with a towel first this time.

Howl went to the cabinet under the sink, and she saw his hand disappear inside, sounds of rummaging coming out. She watched as he tucked little rolls of bandages in the crook of his elbow, along with a rather large, dented box of plaster band-aids. The little metal jar was added to the elbow as he closed the cabinet door.

"Alright," he huffed, bending his knees and balancing on the balls of his feet in front of her. "Let's see your hand, and then we'll get the one on your chest." He put the band-aids, bandages, and a roll of bandage tape on the floor.

"M-my chest?" She looked down, tucking her chin awkwardly. Indeed, there was a thin red line stretching across her collarbone and down.

Howl took up her hand, flicking open the lid of the jar with his other hand and placing it on his knee. He stuck a finger into what looked like clear gel, and began to smear it across her knuckles.

"Ah, ow!" Sophie exclaimed. A cooling sensation spread on her skin, but it was accompanied by an acute, stinging pain. Howl tsked, his hair shifting back and forth as he shook his head. His long fingers brushed lightly against her as she winced, spreading the salve evenly over her cuts.

Her hand jerked involuntarily against the pain, but Howl's firm grip on her wrist prevented her from moving more than a few centimeters. Her free hand gripped the towel covered edge of the toilet seat, and her jaw clenched tightly. The gashes on her hand looked bright and irritated.

"There," he rumbled. Howl placed the jar on the floor next to the band-aids, and picked up the bandage roll. He let go of her hand and began to unwind the white cloth.

"Hold up your hand," he ordered. Sophie held it out, the tips of her fingers shaking slightly.

The cool pads of his fingers made her shiver as he gently started wrapping up her hand, starting at the wrist and working his way up and then back down.

"Uhm," said Sophie. She looked at the fringe sweeping across his face, and the spread of his lips where they lay directly in front of her. "Is your arm okay?"

At that, Howl glanced up. Sophie was stunned momentarily by his glassy green eyes, rimmed by a circle of black, framed by thick lashes.

"Mm," he hummed, before leaning forward to cut the bandage with his teeth. Sophie sucked in a breath as he leaned in, his lips so close to the heartbeat pumping erratically behind the skin of her wrist. The bandage roll dropped to the floor.

Leaning back, his lips twisted into a small smile. He pulled the collar of his shirt back, revealing to Sophie a region of white cloth. "Calcifer fixed me up. It'll be fine."

Almost unconsciously, Sophie reached out with her newly bandaged hand to touch it. She didn't notice the way Howl's eyes widened when she brushed one finger down his shoulder.

"He did a better job than I did." She let out a small laugh. "Good."

"Let's do your neck," he said roughly.

Sophie's smile faltered, and she lowered her hand. "Yes, of course."

Howl picked up the jar from off the floor, and Sophie braced herself for the pain. His fingers felt even more lighter than before against her skin, but the pain was still awful. She hissed in a large intake of breath, her head lolling backwards to expose more of her neck as she tried to ignore the pain.

His fingers paused against her throat, until they returned to sliding down the length of her cut, down to the middle of her breastbone. She shivered.

And then his fingers were gone, and Sophie pulled her head back up to see that Howl had gone back to the cabinet. She watched as he pulled out a thicker cloth before striding the two steps back to her. Folding the cloth, he pressed it against her cut.

"Hold it," he ordered softly.

Her hands came up and she pressed her fingers against the cloth. The cuffs of the rolled up sleeves slid down her forearms. The bandage was soft, and it smelled like it was freshly laundered. _One thing he actually cleans_, she mused.

He reached down and picked up the roll of tape, pulling out a length with a loud ripping sound. Leaning forward, he laid a piece across the cloth, sticking it to her skin. His hair brushed the bottom of her chin as he leaned forward to bite the piece of tape. She felt her throat convulse, and she lolled her head back again. The softness of his hair on her skin didn't tickle, but it felt so nice. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and to the pit of her stomach. His breath was warm against her collarbone.

She felt his hands bat at her hands holding up the cloth, and she lowered them to her lap. His fingers pressed another length of tape against her. Her hands clenched together, and she fought to keep her breathing regular.

"Sophie," he breathed. She shivered almost violently, and gulped.

"Mhm?" she managed.

"I'll get you back home." His hands fell to her lap, covering her knees, his head bowed down. The bandage tape roll settled in the dip between her thighs. "I promise. Just..." He looked up, his green eyes having darkened to black. "Just trust me."

Sophie stared into his eyes for a moment, before lowering her gaze to his hands. She curled her own back against her stomach, away from his.

A hand cupped her jaw, its fingers threading into her drying hair. It pulled her chin up, forcing her to look in his eyes again. "I need you to trust me," he said.

Her eyes darted down to his lips, and back to his eyes. She saw him follow their movement.

"I..." she began. "I trust you."

"Good," he stated plainly and he pressed his lips against her forehead. "Let's put a band-aid on this big cut here."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: A bit filler-y. But I wanted to get in some sweet, sweet tension.<strong>

**So, I said this in my other fic, vote in my profile poll if you want my tumblr for: updates/teasers/stalking privileges.  
>I haven't heard from many people, so if I don't get more interest, I'm just gonna say eff it. No tumblr.<strong>

**Please review! Let me know what you think will happen next! Oh ho ho hoo.**


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: All characters below belong to Dianna Wynne Jones (minus those who are obviously not)._

**AN:  
>Here, here you go. (;<strong>

Unhappy Happenstance

**Chapter 5: Spontaneous Decisions**

It was the late afternoon, and Sophie was taking a nap on the sofa. She had been trying to be good and quiet and not clean anything, and Howl had given her a book to occupy herself. There were no TVs.

The book was a rather dry commentary on the aristocracy of 18th century France, and Sophie had given up on it after the second chapter. Instead, she opted for lying on the sofa, knees bent, and staring at the ceiling. She could hear rain pattering outside and it wasn't long before her eyes had begun to droop.

A loud crash startled her from her light doze, and she jerked awake. Eyes open, she lay still, until she heard another loud bang within the house. Sitting up, she ran a hand through her hair before standing and heading towards the source of the noise.

A loud roar made her jump, and she stood timidly by the entrance to the kitchen. The door to the basement was wide open, and another clattering noise bounced out of it.

Taking a deep breath, she strode towards the door. A narrow set of stairs greeted her, stairs that turned around a corner into darkness. Her hands were curled inside the sleeves of the large cardigan, and she felt like she was five years old again.

Another crash and thud made her jump, the foot that was tentatively stepping down onto the first step recoiling back immediately.

"Michael!" she heard Howl roar.

"I'm getting it, I'm getting it," came Michael. He sounded rather harried, and she heard scuffling, followed by the sounds of telephone buttons.

"Hello, this is Pendragon." Howl was calm and polite.

There was a pause.

"I have my ways. You don't think a telephone number was something no one could find out?"

Michael appeared at the bottom of the stairwell, looking pale. When he saw Sophie, an anxious look passed across his face and he hurried up, his shoes clacking on the wood.

"Shoo, shoo," he whispered, waving his hands at her as he came near.

"Don't shoo me!" Sophie fiercely replied, feeling a bit put out.

Howl's voice grew angrier. "Yes, well I'd like to inform you that stealing my clothier is rather infantile for you, and if you think that you will be able to manipulate..."

Howl's voice trailed off as Michael made it to the stop of the stairs and rushed Sophie out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He wrenched open the door to the sparse bedroom and pushed her inside.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Just stay here for a bit, alright?"

"Wait, what? No! I will not," Sophie screeched, only be cut off as the door shut in her face. She heard the lock turn.

Her fist banged against the wood, knuckles pressed white against bone.

"What are you doing?" came a soft voice.

Sophie whirled around, fist pressed to her heart, when she saw Calcifer reclining on the plain bedspread. His fire-y hair was stark against the white pillow that she did not remember seeing earlier, and as she let out a relieved breath, his eyes slitted down at her.

"I think it's pretty obvious." She gestured tersely at the locked door.

Moving with a surprisingly languid grace, Calcifer sat up in the bed, stretching out and yawning. The plain black t-shirt he wore stretched over his lean torso, and settled back down on top of his jeans when he lowered his arms.

"If you're determined, a locked door isn't going to deter you." His bare feet slid across the floor as he stood up, stepping two steps to the little bedside table and jiggling open the one drawer. His hand delved inside a moment, and came back up with a small skeleton key dangling on his pinky.

Sophie's eyes darted towards it immediately.

"Ah ah," chided Calcifer. "I see your pretty blue eyes eyeing this key." He sat back down on the bed, tucking the key into his pants. She made a face, and whirled to face the door.

"Let me out!" she raged, banging against the door. "Don't leave me with this pervert!"

Calcifer chuckled behind her.

"Don't worry sweetling, I'll let you out. But I can't let an opportunity like this go amiss."

She stiffened, her hand still resting against the door.

"What do you mean," she ground out. Sophie was absolutely tired of dealing with people who were full of speeches just dripping with their sense of superiourity. She could feel the smugness radiating off of her unlikely captor.

There was a creak of bed springs and a patter of bare feet on bare wood. A burning hand settled on her shoulder, and she became rigid.

"You are a liability to Howl. You cannot stay here any longer."

Her jaw clenched. Swiping his hand off of her shoulder, she spun around, stabbing his chest with a righteous pointer finger.

"_I cannot stay any longer?_ I've been voting to leave ever since I got here! I never wanted anything to do with that lunatic that is your mate. I just want to go home!"

She blinked away angry tears, irritated at how they choked her vocal chords.

Calcifer looked unperturbed.

"You don't understand, Sophia Hatter." He yawned. "Howl likes a challenge. You're a challenge to him, nothing more. Spouting insolence and mad eyes and disapproval. Why do you think he insists you stay? If you stayed meek, if you stayed a mouse, if you accepted him, you'd be home already. And now he's facing quite an increase of attention from the worse people possible. It's bad for business, and it's all your fault. In fact, he was planning on retiring on a pile of money later this month. Too late now. You should never have let him control you."

Her finger wavered.

"Did you ever stop to think? If you were serious, you could have prevented him from taking over your car. And now it's too late. Silly girl."

There was a moment in that following pause where Sophie almost felt her heart break a little.

The look on Calcifer's face when she reached down his pants a second later was almost worth being brought near to angry tears and being completely humiliated.

"Fine," she hissed in a strangled whisper. "I'll just do it then."

The door was unlocked in a trice, and she gave it a satisfying slam behind her.

She hadn't really thought she would leave, but when she skidded down the stairs and into the living room, the front door gazed at her mockingly, calling her to challenge Calcifer's cruel words. She paused, taking a deep breath.

* * *

><p>The front door was merely a puzzle of ten different dead bolts, but it was amazing how quick Sophie found herself zipping through them. Behind her, she could hear the voices of Howl (demanding) and Michael (placating), and the slow tread of feet down the stairs.<p>

The door opened after a few furious tugs, and she stepped out into the cool air, the spray of mist touching her face for the first time in days. Not caring that she was dressed in nothing but a cardigan and a summer dress, she flung herself out the door and ran.

If she wasn't wanted, needed, she wouldn't stay.

* * *

><p>It wasn't long before the mist turned into a light rain, and the amazing feeling of the concrete sidewalk beneath her feet gave way to an uncomfortable, painful feeling between her toes. Despite this, she kept running, her thighs burning. She had to get away, she had to keep going. Fear of being caught by Howl kept her feet smacking against the pavement. Fear of being caught by something else entirely kept her legs pumping.<p>

She realized that they had been staying not too far away from downtown London, and she began to recognize her surroundings. Goose pimples prickled across her naked flesh as she turned onto a more populated sidewalk, her hair now semi-plastered to her neck. Slowing down to a fast walk, she kept her head low and hugged her arms across her chest.

She kept walking, keeping to the side of buildings and choosing random different turns, until she stopped abruptly when a store door swung out into her path. Looking up, she saw she'd arrived at a Tesco grocery. The bright lights inside promised warmth. Taking a swift look around her, she opened the door and stepped inside.

Her feet left wet splotches on the tile floor, but she ignored that. She headed straight for the customer service desk.

"Excuse me?"

A young teenage girl with a layer of make up on turned towards her, bubblegum popping out in a pink sphere.

"Yea?" The girl asked her.

"Could I use your telephone?"

The girl looked her up and down. Sophie realized how awful she must look, nearly drenched and wearing nothing suitable for the weather.

"It's just," Sophie started before the girl could respond. "I've been mugged, and my mobile was in my purse."

The girl's skeptical pout softened a bit. After a pause, she looked to her left and right, before lifting up the telephone and placing it on the counter.

"Be quick, yea? I'm not allowed to let customers use the phone. Just press 5 before you dial, alright."

"Thanks so much," Sophie murmured, immediately picking the receiver and dialing in the number she knew by heart.

"Hello?" came a soft, sweet voice.

"Martha?" Sophie coughed, suddenly feeling tears prickle her eyes. "It's Sophie."

There was an intake of breath.

"Sophie?" Martha whispered, her voice hitched. "Oh god, Sophie, are you alright? Where have you been? We've been worried sick, and your mobile was disconnected, Lettie's been out looking all day today and Mum's absolutely frantic. Where are you?"

Sophie gave a weak chuckle, her eyes looking down the aisles of product as she twirled the phone cord with one finger. "Uhm, it's a long story. I'm alright, I promise. I'm so sorry, I just-" She huffed, at a loss as to how to explain anything.

"What? What is it Sophie? Where are you, I'll come get you."

"I'm in a Tesco," she sighed again. "I'm not sure where I am exact...ly..."

The phone cord dropped from her finger, as the receiver went slack in her hand. In the aisle straight ahead of her, two men dressed completely in black stared at her through dark lenses. One held a black duffel in one hand. The other held a gun.

She dropped the receiver and ran, distorted echoes of Martha's voice talking from the floor where the phone fell. The customer service girl yelled behind her, but all Sophie could hear was the heavy tread of boots running behind her. She ran further into the aisles, ducking in and out until she reached an exit. She burst out the glass doors, knocking aside a couple on their way inside.

It had truly started to rain, and freezing droplets soaked through the thin cloth of her dress. They stung as she ran through them blindly, slipping in and out between pedestrians. Sobs cut through her breaths as she gasped in air, reaching out with her hands to push people aside and to see.

She tripped over a boot, stumbling in the air and catching herself before she fell to the ground. It was enough though, and she felt a rough hand grab her arm and yank her out of the crowd. She struggled, her chest rising with air as she prepared to scream, but a well placed punch to her solar plexus expelled all the air with a painful whoosh. Stars sprinkled in front of her eyes, and her lungs burned as her diaphragm froze with pain.

They dragged her into an alley.

The sound of duct tape ripping off its roll filled her ears, and she willed her limbs to move. All she managed was a sluggish twitch in her legs, and for that she received a whack over the head.

"No more struggling now, girl," came a deep voice, muffled by pain and fabric. "Keep watch Fabian."

Sophie heard the sound of a gun cocking with a small click, and a shadowed figure danced before her pain glazed eyes. It stood at the mouth of the alley.

"Stay still now. Mistress doesn't want us to bang you up, much." He grabbed her wrists and held them together with one large hand, a thick strip of duct tape being tightly wrapped around them. Air finally rattled into her lungs agonizingly, and she wasn't sure if the shallow, hysterical breaths were because of that or were because panic was starting to set in.

Another loud rip of tape roared over the patter of rain on garbage cans. Pure fear rattled down her spine and settled in the seat of her stomach.

"N-no, no, nono, n-n-no," she stuttered out involuntarily. Rain dripped down on her, swimming down between her eyelashes.

"Quiet," the man growled, raising his hand. Sophie flinched.

BANG!

The sound ratcheted in the alley and the man cursed. "Fabian, what are you doing! Point the damn thing away from me!"

The man's partner was faced towards them, his arms outstretched and his hands clutching the gun. It followed something moving, something that the man with Sophie soon realized was behind him.

BANG! BANG!

Powdered brick scattered over Sophie's face, and she curled on her side, sheltering her head with her bound hands.

There was a grunt, and the sound of muffled thuds, before she felt a whoosh of air against her face. Peeking her eyes open, she could see one of her captors laying by her face, his eyes open blankly and his neck at an unnatural angle. Letting out a squeak, she tried to shuffle backwards when she caught sight of a shadowed figure flitting over their bodies and towards the gunman.

There were two more loud bangs, and a thud.

And then, silence.

Warm hands pushed her hair back from her eyes, and a familiar face swam into view.

"Hey, you," it said. An arm hooked itself under her bent knees, another curling around her shoulders and hefting her up against a warm chest. The last she saw was the sight of rain darkened blond hair, plastered to a face spattered with blood.

* * *

><p>When she woke again, she was being jostled slightly as Howl ran, his breaths coming out in small pants as they ascended a narrow, unfamiliar staircase. Her eyes blinked rapidly, and her hands flexed in their still bonded state. She took in a huge breath, and with it came a tumble of tears. They caught in her throat and swam down her cheeks with big, gasping sobs.<p>

"Shh," she felt more than heard. "Shh, I've got you."

They reached the top of the staircase, and Howl adjusted her as he freed one hand to touch the door's keypad. There was a beep, and he clicked the door open, his hand automatically returning to where it supported her under the knees.

Sophie hiccuped through her tears, trying desperately to stop crying but to no avail.

The inside of the room smelled like a hotel, and from what Sophie could tell, it most likely was a hotel room. Howl shuffled them through another door, and she felt herself being plopped down onto a bed.

The air was cold without him.

Another door was opened, and a light was clicked on.

He reappeared in front of her with a warm face cloth and a towel. The latter he wrapped around her shoulders, and the other he began to wipe her face with. The cloth rubbed against her sore cheeks, but it was warm, and she leaned into it, her sobs abating into small gasps.

"There now, you're safe." He took the cloth away, and pulled out a switchblade from his pocket. She flinched as he flicked it open, but didn't move as he gently cut through the duct tape tied around her wrists.

He peeled back the tape, wetting the underside with the cloth so that it might come away easier. His fingers prodded gentle on her skin, rubbing lightly.

"I," she began. "I'm s-sorry, I'm s-so s-s-sorry."

Howl sighed. "I told you I'd get you home, didn't I? Silly girl."

At those words, tears welled up in her eyes, spilling out against her will.

"I-I know b-but Calcifer said th-that you were j-just...and I j-just wanted to go h-home," she blubbered, her hands gripping onto Howl's as he finally freed them from their silver restraints.

"It's okay Sophie," he murmured, and allowed her to pull him in between her legs so that she could clutch at his shirt and cry.

* * *

><p>When the tears petered out, he pulled back, cupping her face in his hands. His thumbs wiped at the tear trails that glistened down her face.<p>

"Don't you listen to Calcifer. He's no good."

She gave a small hiccup, and looked him in the eyes. They were a dark, stormy green, and she felt a shiver go down her spine.

"You're no good either," she retorted in a shaky voice.

The small smile that pulled at the corner of his lips prompted one to form on her own face.

"Yes, well," he lamely replied, a breath of a laugh escaping through his lips.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again, leaning closer towards him. "I didn't realize they would really be..."

"It's okay."

The hands that cupped her face tightened slightly, and she felt her eye lids droop, focusing down from his eyes to the smooth line of his lips. Almost involuntarily, she felt her chin nudge upwards, her nose nuzzling the side of his softly.

"You're still no good," she sighed against him, feeling his breath hitch.

Howl let out a huff of air, his mouth a tantalizing two millimeters from hers. She clenched her nails against his chest, and that was all it took for him to close the distance between them fiercely, his hands immediately reaching out to thread into her hair.

A delicious thrill went through her stomach as his warm lips covered hers. She almost felt like crying again, it felt so good. His lips moved against her lips continuously, as if he couldn't help but kiss her again and again. Her hands crept up from where they clutched at his shirt to coil around his neck, and she felt a rumble go through his chest.

His hands traveled down to her neck, down to cup her shoulders. He would pull his mouth back from a kiss, but only his mouth, only to reach in again at another slight way, tasting her again and again. He felt like velvet against her mouth, and tasted like rain and blood and something else indescribably delicious.

Sophie fell back against the bed, and he followed, crawling up between her legs to pin her on all fours, his body covering hers like a predator.

His lips left hers, and she let out a mew of discontent. They traveled down her jawline, stopping at the junction of her jaw and neck to nip and suckle. The sensations ripped through her nerves, making her clutch at him in between running her hands down his sides. His mouth went down further to the crook of her neck, and she could feel heart rush in her ears as he kissed her skin, pulling with his lips, with his teeth, sipping her with his tongue.

"Oh!" she cried, clutching at his shoulders.

He hissed, pausing, his lips hovering over her skin.

"Fuck," he growled, and let his forehead slump down against her collarbone.

"What," Sophie managed after a few deep breaths. "What's wrong?"

She tilted her head up, pulling her hands back, when she felt her left hand part with something sticky and wet. Confused, she held it up to her eyes to see that it was slick with blood.

"Howl!"

Hastily, she sat up, and he obliged, moving backwards.

"It's fine," he assured her with an aggravated sigh. "One of the bullets just clipped me. I'd forgotten."

She licked her swollen lips, and she saw his eyes darken as they caught the movement. He turned his head away. She felt something dip in her stomach.

"Just _clipped_ you?" she whispered incredulously. _Forgotten?_

"It's just a scratch." He groaned, rubbing his face tiredly. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. You need to sleep off the shock of today."

"But," she began. What about their kiss? What about that?

One look from him silenced her, and she didn't make another sound as he led her through her ablutions and tucked her into bed.

The door clicked resolutely behind him when he left her in the bedroom, alone.

* * *

><p>She woke up much later, face flushed. The tingling between her thighs was beginning to fade, but the memories of the dream stayed fresh in her mind. She lay in bed, eyes staring up at the ceiling as she felt a restlessness rise in her bones.<p>

When she slipped out of the bed, she walked with certainty.

* * *

><p>Howl was sitting on the couch of the suite's little living room, clad in just his jeans and a thin t-shirt. A stark white bandage was wrapped tightly across one of his biceps. A gun was cradled in his hands.<p>

As she padded across the carpet towards him, he looked up, a question alight in his eyes. His hair was dark as night, as it would be after his shower earlier in the night. His dark brows winged straight across his bottle green eyes, and the light freckles that sprinkled under his lashes sprang out starkly against his skin.

Sophie took the gun out of his limp hands, and placed it with a resolute click on the table.

"Sophie?" he asked, but she knew he knew the answer to his question.

She reached forward, threading her fingers through soft black hair, placing one knee on either side of him as she did so. The sofa dimpled under her weight.

Her lips ghosted over his cheek, over his nose, across his jaw. She could feel him shudder beneath her, and felt the burning warmth of his hands through her dress as they settled on her hips.

She settled in against him, fitting her chest to his, before her lips descended on his. They were warm, almost feverishly so, tasting like honey and soap and hot blooded male. His arms tightened around her waist, and he moved his lips in a sudden frantic pattern. She gasped, parting her lips slightly, and he flicked his tongue out to trace the inner length of her lower lip.

She nearly sagged in his grip, her hands pressing closer into his hair.

His tongue swiped at her lips again, before delving inside to play with hers. He sucked lightly, pressing the tip against hers. Sophie shuddered in his arms. He groaned, and the sound rumbled through the both of them.

"Oh god," he moaned, releasing her mouth to descend upon her neck, scraping his teeth and laving the almost bites with his tongue.

Sophie arched into him, breathing raggedly. "Yes," she gasped.

His hands traveled down her legs, and under her skirt. As soon as his skin met hers, she jumped lightly, and brought his mouth back to hers. She attacked his, nibbling and tugging at his lips, her tongue fighting with his as she sucked and pulled. His hands traveled higher, and hers traveled lower, scraping down his chest to reach the rim of shirt and pull.

His hands left her thighs for a moment as she pulled his shirt off of him, reveling in the ripple of muscle that was revealed. She reached behind her to pull at the fabric of her dress, and he helped her pull it over her head, leaving her in nothing but panties.

With a sudden movement, he grabbed her and her back met the couch with a thump.

"Ahh!" she cried. His mouth was making its way down to her breasts, as his hands trailed up her ribs, both aiming for the same area.

"Sophie," he murmured hoarsely.

She squirmed underneath him, pressure building in her abdomen sweetly.

Another choked cry escaped her as his mouth latched onto a nipple and sucked.

"More," she moaned, and he complied by bringing up both hands finally to cup her breasts, is fingers moving rhythmically as he sucked.

Blindly, she reached up to fumble with the button of his jeans, pulling it apart almost savagely. With a chuckle, he wiggled his rear to help her pull the denim down, kicking it to the floor as soon as he was able.

"Oh gods," she cried, bucking upwards. Her bare legs felt the silky smoothness of the skin of his abdomen, and she nearly shed tears, her want to pull him close was so desperate.

One hand left the her breast as he kissed his way to the other nipple, and slid slowly down her stomach.

"Mmm," she groaned, and he hummed against her breast.

The hand slipped under her panties, parted its way through red curls, and she nearly spasmed as he touched her center. Her hands flailed, settling to thread through his hair once again.

A finger circled her entrance, and she moaned, low and deep.

"Stop teasing me, damnit," she ordered breathily, and she felt him smile against her skin. As his finger entered her, she felt her hips slide upwards, agonizing for friction. He slid it in and out, in and out, and she nearly saw stars when he slid in one more finger. His thumb brushed against her clit, sending waves of pleasure up and down her body.

"You're so wet," he choked, his words hot against her breastbone.

"Please," she begged. "Howl, please"

He shook his head, side to side, his hair brushing across her like a brush. Her nerves were on fire. Her knees tightened around his side and she squeezed, coaxing him closer.

With a groan, he lowered down, and she felt his other hand go down. There was a rip and slight discomfort before she saw something blue go flying through the air.

"Hey," she complained half-heartedly, but soon forgot the destroyed underwear as his arousal slid against her wetness. She forgot to breathe.

"Ahh," he groaned, and she saw him bite his lip.

"Just do it," Sophie growled, impatient, and nearly started keening when he immediately thrust forcefully inside her. Every part of him, touching her inner walls. It was burning hot.

Her breaths came out in loud pants alongside his, and she shifted her hips, letting him sink in a fraction more. They both groaned together, and she felt him curl one arm around her back while the other braced itself near her head on its elbow.

His hips moved backwards, and his cock dragged against something that made her cry out. With a snap, he reentered her, and she clutched at his back, digging her nails in. He started a steady rhythm, pumping in and out, in and out, pulling at her hips as she moved in tandem. The slide of him against her was making her limbs shake, and the head of his cock brushed roughly against a spot that made pleasure literally ripple through her body.

"Oh yes," she breathed out raggedly, and he groaned in agreement. The pressure building inside her was getting hotter and heavier, and she couldn't take it.

"I'm so close," she whimpered. "Please Howl, please!"

"Yes," he managed, his voice low and hoarse. "Yes, Sophie."

And then he slammed into her with incredible force, over and over, until all she could see was blackness as her entire being focused on the feeling of him rubbing fiercely against her. Her eyes rolled backwards, and then intense pleasure exploded, and her black world turned bright white.

When she came to, he was still riding her, when she felt him pull out suddenly and his whole body went rigid as seed splashed out onto her stomach. His eyes were squinted shut, his eyebrows lifted as if in anguish, and a rumbling moan ripped out of him.

His breaths were ragged against her skin, and he pulled her to him close, seeking her warmth.

"Sophie," he finally murmured.

She kissed his brow where it lay nestled against her neck.

A hand trailed down her ribs and back up, caressing her skin.

"What is it, Howl," she mumbled.

"Stay?" The question soaked in the skin near his mouth, and she felt it as it came out of his mouth.

"Yes," she replied sleepily. "Always."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<br>****1. I have never been anywhere British, so I apologize if I got anything geographically stupid about London D:  
><strong>**2. SO. WHAT'D YOU THINK. REVIEW! :D**


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